


Not Strong Enough

by CaliBDiamond



Series: The Dark Side of Me [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Clone Wars, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22536778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaliBDiamond/pseuds/CaliBDiamond
Summary: Iza Tacor is a newly inducted Jedi Knight who has already bitten off more than she can chew. When given the chance to redeem herself by being tasked with protecting an Abassador's daughter, she finds a different sort of trouble beginning to brew inside her mind.Emotionsare so much harder to ignore when mixed signals and confusing coincidences just keep happening, and she'll learn the hard way that War isn't the only thing in life that spares no mercy.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character(s), Original Clone Trooper Character(s) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Dark Side of Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629274
Comments: 32
Kudos: 35





	1. Frozen

Her fingers were freezing.

The cold had long since settled in and her thick robes no longer provided any sort of protection from the icy air surrounding her. Even the collective forms of what remained of her Clone comrades couldn’t provide enough heat to stop the beginning stages of hypothermia from settling in. They were all doomed, as far as she was concerned, and it was entirely her fault.

Tapping futilely at her wrist-comm for the tenth time in the past half-hour, Iza Tacor let out a heavy sigh that became an instant cloud in front of her eyes, reminding her of what little body heat remained inside of her. Numb fingers raked through disheveled, half-frozen locks and paused when they met the ends where her Padawan braid had been cut just months before.

 _What a joke_. All of the meditation and training in the galaxy hadn’t prepared her mind nor her body for what she’d faced on what was supposed to be a _simple little supply run_. Perhaps her Master had made a grave mistake in allowing her to complete the Trials, and the Council had followed suit in his failure by Knighting her.

Giving a thorough shake of her head, Iza pushed the thought out of her mind and shut her eyes in an attempt to clear it. No, she’d been trusted with this mission—miniscule as it was—and she was going to see it through. The Clones hadn’t given up hope on getting the ship up and running again and neither should she.

“Sir,” the voice of one of the Clones had Iza opening her eyes and slowly turning her head to address him, sitting up against the panel she rested against.

“Yes?” Both palms pressed against the frigid metal surface as she willed herself to her feet and tried to ignore the wave of dizziness that followed. She was tired and cold and moving _hurt_ , but these men needed her as much as she needed them. “What is it, Catcher?”

“We’ve got an output signal on the communication system. It’s weak, but it should be enough to flag down someone close by.”

Well, that was some good news-bad news rolled into one, wasn’t it? They could throw a beacon light out into the cosmos and **hope** that someone saw it, rather than send a message directly to where it needed to go. If only she hadn’t taken the ship down so damn hard. Maybe then there’d be more to work with than just a weak signal and a massive hole letting in the arctic air.

“ _Sir_.”

It took longer than she would’ve liked for Iza’s foggy mind to come back into focus long enough for her to fixate on Catcher again, her eyes leveling with his in an effort to keep from drifting again. There was something like concern in his features before he seemed to grunt and blindly tapped a few keys on the panel.

“Send the distress call, Catch,” licking her lips did more harm than good as Iza turned away to rub her palms over her face. She didn’t feel her gloves scratching open the wound on her cheek, but the warmth of her own blood trickling down her skin had her glancing down to watch a single drop fall and bloom out onto the sleeve of her robe. No more followed, having already thickened enough from exposure to the freezing room. “Are the others still working on--”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. I’m going to…” what? What did she think she was going to do? Run outside and scavenge for parts in the snow? Try to get her wrist-comm to work for the ten-thousandth time? Or was she going to retreat to her damaged quarters and continue to sulk over having ruined the very first mission she’d been trusted with? Maybe while she was in there, she could go ahead and patch up some of these wounds she’d forgotten about. She’d been more concerned over the injuries of the Clones in her care that her own bumps and bruises had gone ignored and now most of them would require special attention when— _if_ —they ever got off this frozen spitball of a planet.

As if suddenly realizing that she was standing there staring blankly at the wall, Iza managed a glance in Catcher’s direction and pulled the collar of her robes tighter around her neck. “Meditate. I’m going to meditate.” Because _that_ was what she needed to do at a time like this; shut everything out and maybe—just maybe—use some of the training she’d been given to see if there was more that could be done than sit around and wait for rescue.

Not giving the man any time to even give a nod of confirmation, Iza made her way out of the cockpit. It was even colder in the halls leading to the crew quarters and she cursed herself for breaking away from the natural heat sources of her companions. Coming to a halt in front of an open door, the young Jedi peered in and wished immediately that she hadn’t. She’d forgotten that they’d laid the bodies of the fallen Clones in their beds; they looked almost like they were sleeping.

There was a pinch in the pads of her fingertips as they bit into the edge of the doorway she’d unknowingly been gripping and Iza forced herself to keep moving.

Fifteen Clones. _Fifteen_ Clones she’d been granted to bring supplies from one place to another and she would only be returning with seven. Three were badly injured and set up in the medical bay with a droid keeping watch while the other four worked to get them the hell out of here. It was all her fault, too. It’d been her idea to try taking on the Separatist ship that had snuck up on them, instead of retreating like a _smart_ person would. Her Master had taught her better than this. She’d spent years learning not to act on impulse and here she was, squandering all of that away over a little bit of excitement on her first solo assignment as a Jedi Knight.

It had cost her more than just eight Clones and a cargo runner. It had caused her to bring _doubt_ back into her mind after everything she’d gone through to push it out over the years. She had called her own Master’s actions into question _because_ of her own, and that simply wouldn’t do.

It felt like ages had passed and miles had been walked by the time she reached her quarters, her feet nearly frozen inside of her boots and moving sluggishly across the floor. After three hard slams of her palm against the button, she managed to get the door open and slipped inside, dropping into the bunk with a harsh grunt when she landed on a forgotten bruise. Maybe she could meditate later. She hadn’t gotten much sleep since the crash and she wouldn’t be able to properly focus in this cold anyway. Huddling up against the wall of the bunk, Iza pulled her robes in tighter against her form and shut her eyes, ducking her chin in some effort to try and stay warm.

~*~*~*~

“… _an you hear me?_ ”

Iza stirred painfully where she lay, feeling her stiff limbs tighten in protest when she attempted to lift a hand. Something was stuck in her ears; she could barely hear the voice speaking to her. Cracking open her eyelids caused her to groan miserably as white light blinded her and she turned away from it, lifting an aching arm to try and provide more cover.

“ _Jedi Tacor_ ,” the accented voice was clearer now and followed by a set of hands that were both gentle but urgent at the same time, tugging Iza’s arm away from her face and pressing warm fingertips against her neck. The heat was almost intolerable against her icy skin, but the young woman could do nothing as she listened to someone call out about a medic droid and felt herself being lifted from her spot.

She put up no fight—what was the point?—and let her head fall back as she was rushed from the ship, barely conscious enough to understand what was going on around her. Her eyes slid lazily open but everything passed by in a slow blur. The muffled noise in her ears suggested there were more people around than before. Perhaps someone had heard their distress call? Faintly, she thought she caught the sound of boots marching in sync behind her and her savior. Clones.

A deep rumble against her side brought her attention back to the figure who held her in their arms. They were speaking again and it was hard to tell if they were talking to _her_ or to someone else she couldn’t see. Letting out a pained hiss as she was lowered onto a sick bed, Iza turned her head to try and spot the person only to have a medic droid glide into her line of sight.

“Body temperature reads eighty-three degrees,” the droid chirped, extending an arm from a side port to let a ray of blue light scan over Iza’s form. “She is severely hypothermic and will require immediate care. Please see yourself out, General.”

Iza had shut her eyes against the light again, feeling more nausea washing over her as she tried to turn her head away from it. Somewhere in between hearing the door open and shut, and the medic droid instructing her to keep still, she blacked out again.

~*~*~*~

Two days.

Two days in the medical bay and Iza was finally on her feet again. The hypothermia hadn’t been the only thing keeping her down, but a few bacta patches and some _real_ sleep had done enough to wave away those wounds. The bruises intended to stick around a little longer, as did the mark on her cheek, but at least she could feel her hands again.

She wasn’t entirely pleased to learn that her robes had been cut through in order to get her warmed up properly, but only because she would’ve been absolutely _mortified_ if another Jedi or one of her Clones had seen her in such a state. It was bad enough that she’d been unconscious and nearly frozen to death, she didn’t need them seeing her naked, too.

“Jedi Tacor,”

Stopping in her tracks, the young woman turned a little too quickly at the sound of her name and gave a soft smile in the direction of the man standing behind her. “Master Kenobi, hello.”

“You’re up and about,” he seemed quietly pleased about this, his blue eyes surveying her long enough to conclude that she was _just fine_. “And you’ve returned to your natural colors. You’re no longer blue and purple.”

 _Ah_. Fantastic. So it was Obi-Wan who’d been the one to pluck her from that frozen death trap of a ship, eh? That was _perfect_. At least now she knew what to expect once they returned to Coruscant and she was made to face her Master and explain what happened. No doubt Obi-Wan had already comm’d ahead and given him all of the details of her failed mission. Master Windu was _not_ going to be very pleased.

“I sense distress within you, Iza Tacor,”

 _Force_ , she really disliked when the Masters did that. General Kenobi was the worst about it, too. Master Windu at least allowed her privacy with her occasional fleeting emotions. She’d learned to suppress them just as well as anyone else, but _every now and then…_

“I’m sorry, Master Kenobi,” giving a light bow of her head, Iza inhaled deeply and fixed him with another faint smile. “I just had a moment of worry for my Master’s thoughts on my… failure.”

“I can assure you that Master Windu was pleased to learn we’d recovered you and your crew—”

“What was left, you mean?” _Mmm_ , perhaps she shouldn’t have said that so bitterly. Might give the impression that she was angry over the situation—which she _was_ , but only at herself.

The look on Kenobi’s face was damn-near neutral, save for the one brow quirked high on his forehead. Another long moment stretched between the two while he silently studied her before clearing his throat again. “Perhaps you’d prefer to speak to your Master directly, Jedi Tacor? Maybe he can put your mind at ease about the situation.” Because clearly, Obi-Wan _could not_.

Iza didn’t need time to think about the idea because she’d already been toying with it. She and Master Windu operated on an _everything out in the open_ basis and she thought that perhaps it was because she couldn’t fess up to him herself that she was feeling so snappy. Straightening herself with a nod, Iza made to turn and continue down the hallway.

“Jedi Tacor,”

She stopped again, shutting her eyes and not turning around. “Yes, Master Kenobi?”

“I’m glad you’re all right. You had us worried there.” And then his boots were echoing off the floor once again, fading off behind her as he wandered deep into the ship.

When he was gone, Iza let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and cursed at herself in a language she’d learned during her studies. Tugging lightly out of old habit at the small grown-out chunk of hair where her Padawan braid used to hang, she huffed and continued on her way to send a comm to her Master.

~*~*~*~

Coruscant was **another** two days’ worth of travel away and Iza had _finally_ let her mind be at ease over the situation she’d fallen into. Master Windu had indeed been less harsh than she’d expected—although he had definitely drilled it into her that her next solo mission would not be granted for a _long_ while—and she was to meet with him almost immediately once arriving home for a proper debrief. She had a strong feeling she’d be on Archive duty for a while after this, but it was better than being responsible for lost lives.

“Good to see you’re still alive ‘n kicking, Sir,” Catcher flashed a grin when Iza wandered into the mess hall to put some food into her belly.

Green eyes surveyed the four Clones sitting together at a single table and she felt a brief twinge of guilt in her chest before smiling back. “I’m glad to see you too, Catch. How are the others?” She was practically twisting her fingers together behind her back as if it would somehow bring good news out of the Clone’s mouth. She could tell by the way the man’s eyes dimmed that she wasn’t going to like what she heard.

“We lost Karver. He was too far gone by the time General Kenobi and the others arrived. Unk and Ze are still in the medical bay.”

 _Nine_. Nine Clones she’d gotten killed.

“General,” for a minute, Iza half expected Obi-Wan to be standing somewhere in the room until Catcher repeated himself a little louder and in a firmer tone, bringing her attention back to him. “ _General Tacor_.”

“I’m not your General, Catch.” It was true; these were her Master’s men if one were to get down to the technical side of things. She had no right to expect them to call her anything but Sir, nor did she feel as though she deserved to be addressed in any other manner.

“It isn’t your fault, Sir. This is war. War has dues that need to be paid.”

“That is not…” lifting a hand like she could somehow shut his words out with the simple gesture, Iza shook her head. “That is _not_ what I need to hear, Catcher.” She’d already heard the speech from Master Windu and would likely continue hearing it until she could finally get the sick feeling of guilt out of her gut. Yes, war did indeed have its prices and its dues and she was fully aware that brash decisions tended to be what paid those dues off in full. What she didn’t need was someone telling her that her own recklessness _wasn’t_ to blame when it so blatantly _was_. It was like they were lying to her face when she already knew the truth and it only served to make it worse.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

Another wave of her hand was all Iza could give in response before she was walking briskly past the table of Clones with her head down. No more of this. No more speaking to anyone until she returned to Coruscant. She would keep to herself and meditate and make sure that all of this was completely out of her system before she stood before her Master in person. If he sensed even an _ounce_ of anything amiss within her she’d be made to put it all out in the open, even moreso than she already had. Master Windu could be understanding in many ways, but he held no tolerance for guilt.

Grunting when her shoulder caught that of another passing by, she quickly threw out an apology without looking up and likely would have cursed out loud about being taken hold of if she hadn’t recognized the gentle squeeze of the hand around her arm.

“Jedi Tacor!”

“Padawan Tano?” A little stunned to see the girl, Iza turned to face her and fixed her with a genuine smile. “Where is your Master?”

“In the hangar with Master Kenobi. They’re looking over what’s left of your ship.” Ahsoka gave an almost nonchalant shrug and waved her hand. “He said something about _parts_.”

 _Of course_.

“How are you feeling? Master Kenobi said you were nearly frozen solid when he found you.”

“I’m all right, thank you.” She gave a reassuring nod and another smile, but Iza’s mind had already wandered far away from the conversation. “Hungry, but fine.”

“Oh,” looking around, Ahsoka pointed to an empty table in the corner and then jabbed her thumb towards it. “I can save us a seat?”

While Iza wanted very much just to take her meal to her quarters, she knew she needed to stop trying to escape from everyone. She would have enough time to realign herself and purge the needless guilt and worry from her being before they returned home. Nodding to the Padawan, she drew in a deep breath and offered yet another smile, this one a bit tight but still kind. “Please. I’ll gather your meal for you.”

~*~*~*~

Exhausted couldn’t even begin to describe how Iza felt once she’d left her Master’s quarters. She’d laid everything out to him without leaving a single word out, and she’d done it all without letting any of her feelings get the better of her. Thank the Force, too, because if she’d spent the last day and a half in serious meditation for nothing, then she would’ve just _left_ the Order. There would be no use for a Jedi Knight who couldn’t fully control herself and by stars, she worked herself half to death trying to maintain that control sometimes.

But at least there was no more guilt and no more sick feelings wallowing in her belly. She could walk the halls of the temple freely and look her peers and colleagues in the eye without having the urge to look at her feet in shame.

As she’d predicted, she would be spending more time in the Temple’s Archives for a while, but that suited her just fine. As long as she wasn’t out in the fray with the rest, having to make last second decisions and watch her men fall dead at her feet— _that was fine_.

“Jedi Tacor,” _of course_.

“Master Kenobi,” at least she had a true smile on her face when she turned to face him this time, giving both Anakin and Ahsoka a nod of acknowledgement when they stepped up alongside the older man. “How may I help you?”

“I require your assistance for a job.”

Had she just heard him correctly? Did he _not_ know that her Master had condemned her to the Temple? “Master, I don’t understand…?”

“We’ve been tasked with escorting an important member of the Senate and her daughter and I could use an extra bit of security aboard the ship.”

“But Master Windu—”

“—has already given his permission.” Obi-Wan cut in, looking just as neutral as ever, though there was a certain sincerity to his eyes that left Iza with little to object upon.

“Why me?” She hadn’t quite meant to just _blurt_ it out like that, but she was confused. He’d just pulled her off of a frozen planet, almost dead and with over half of her men _gone_ , and he wanted to scoop her up and toss her back out into _another_ mission? Was he insane?

“I believe I’ve already explained myself, Iza.” _Okay_ , first name basis with Obi-Wan was uncommon but not unheard of. Usually one had to put in a great deal of effort in order to earn that sort of respect. “You’d be supplying security for the Ambassador’s young daughter.”

Iza had a strong feeling she wasn’t going to be allowed to say _no_ to this. If her Master had already granted Obi-Wan permission to take her with him, then objecting would mean throwing away a second chance to prove herself that one didn’t often get. Throwing out the temptation to sneak a glance at Ahsoka and her Master, Iza sighed quietly and nodded. “I would be honored to accompany you, Master Kenobi. And you, Master Skywalker.”

She waited for Ahsoka to clear her throat—and watched the way Anakin gave her a light nudge with his elbow when she did—before attempting to hide the amusement in her eyes when she smiled and addressed the girl. “As well as yourself, Padawan Tano.”

“Glorious!” Obi-Wan fixed Iza with a bright smile and propped his hands on his hips. “We leave in two hours.”

It should have been no surprise to her at all that he would simply just turn and walk away after that, leaving Anakin and Ahsoka behind. When he was out of earshot, the elder of the two turned and offered Iza a sly smirk.

“Master Obi-Wan wants to keep an eye on you.” There was something in his gaze she _didn’t_ like, but then—she never felt too comfortable around Anakin. Most Force sensitive people didn’t, though they played it off as though there was nothing inherently wrong with the boy. He was only a few years younger than she, but Iza felt _centuries_ older than him at times with the way he was known to behave.

“ _Master_ ,” it was Ahsoka’s turn to elbow her superior’s ribs, shooting a sympathetic look to the Jedi standing in front of them. “His mouth doesn’t know what a filter is.”

“He thought you were dead when he found you.” Anakin clearly preferred to see what color Iza’s face might turn instead of minding his tongue. “Couldn’t get him out of the Medical Bay for a whole day.”

“ _Master_ ,”

“If you’re implying that Master Kenobi holds some sort of… _special concern_ for my well-being, I suggest you stop.” Iza exhaled harshly through her nose and stared up at the younger Jedi while keeping herself as calm as the situation would allow. “He won’t be as amused as you think.” She held his gaze for another long moment until he looked away first and scoffed. She took the opportunity then to give Asohka a parting nod before turning to head back to her quarters. She would need to pack what little she had to bring and perhaps see if she couldn’t swap a few of Kenobi’s men out for her own. It would be nice to have Catcher around to keep her company instead of relying on Skywalker and Ahsoka, though the Padawan was quite easy to get along with.

She didn’t know what sort of company the Ambassador’s daughter would be, and she didn’t want to be stuck wandering the halls of the ship with nothing to do. That was how _bad_ things happened and _reckless_ _ideas_ came about.

As she was rounding the corner to enter her chambers, she made a note in the back of her head to remember her cloak this time around.


	2. You're My Conscience

“Your move.” Iza mumbled as she brushed aside a piece from the game board in front of her. She’d lost count of how many times the Twi’lek girl in front of her had _insisted_ they play this silly game, but she was growing rather bored of it. She would’ve thought a girl this age would want to spend her time reading datapads or doing _something_ other than play a game for hours on end. But the child insisted on resetting the pieces every time they came to the end and Iza wondered just how long she was going to have to bear this torment.

Yaz'jeku stared hard at the board in front of her before moving her piece to the furthest corner towards Iza. “I win.”

She wanted so badly to breathe a sigh of relief, as if that statement actually meant she’d be allowed to get up and maybe walk around and get some feeling back into her legs. But Iza had a bad feeling that the child was about to pick up the pieces and reset the whole thing once more.

“You can leave.” The magenta-skinned girl said quietly, gathering up the pieces to drop them into the bag they belonged in. “I’m tired.”

 _Finally_. Standing slowly so it wouldn’t seem as though she was in some sort of hurry to leave, Iza gave a light bow to the girl before exiting the room. Her eyes met those of the trooper stationed outside of the room and she gave a quick nod before practically breaking out into a sprint towards the mess hall. She needed _food_ and _drink_ and company that wasn’t three feet tall. Maybe she’d get lucky and Catcher would be in the Mess so she’d at least have someone to sit and chat with, too.

 _Or_ , she could—quite literally—run into Master Kenobi at top speed. That could happen, too. And they could both crash painfully into a set of unopened doors into a heap.

“ _Jedi Tacor_ ,” Obi-Wan’s voice held none of its usual playful lilt as he rubbed his head and shot her a very stern look. If Iza thought he was capable of real anger, she’d rightfully be the target of it. “Is there some emergency? Why are you _running_ in the halls?”

“I…” she felt like a twelve year old being scolded for doing something childish. Searching for something to say, she absently tugged at the spot her braid used to hang and glanced down the hall, and then back at him. “I’m sorry, Master. I’ve just been cooped up in one spot all day.” _Mmm,_ Master Windu wouldn’t approve of that excuse. He’d put her in far more uncomfortable situations than playing silly board games with children for hours on end during her training; this wasn’t going to be a good enough excuse. “I haven’t eaten.” There, that was better.

Blue eyes surveyed her face for a moment and Iza felt that _odd_ sensation of him looking right through her before Obi-Wan nodded and let out a sigh. “Right, very well,” getting to his feet, the older Jedi reached to help her back onto hers and gestured down the hall. “Shall we go together?”

“Sure, Master.” Iza couldn’t explain the slight sense of unease in her tone, but Obi-Wan didn’t seem troubled by it. Instead, he walked ahead of her to lead the way, only stopping long enough to make sure she wasn’t being left behind.

“How are you getting on with Yaz'jeku?”

“Fine, Master,” finally falling in line with his steps, Iza tucked her hands against the small of her back and looked up when the older man turned his head to glance at her.

“You’re free to call me Obi-Wan when we’re not in front of the Council, Iza. I can spare you of that formality for now.” There was something like a hint of _amusement_ in his blue eyes and Iza just stared back at him, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “Is something the matter?”

“I’m afraid I can’t address you informally, sir.” No, that was too comfortable, wasn’t it? And it was a bit _odd_ to be given permission in the first place. “Master Windu said I must always respect my Masters before me, and until I’ve been assigned a Padawan of my own—I cannot abide by your request.”

He didn’t look as though he was going to argue against her, but he gave a very distinct _hm_ of contemplation before seeming to brush off whatever it was he was thinking about. He said nothing further on the matter, which annoyed Iza slightly. But the two of them remained silent during the rest of the walk to the Mess Hall, save for the sounds of their boots against the flooring. Once they’d reached the doors, Iza turned and gave a polite nod to the older Jedi before heading inside.

It was empty, aside from one or two stray Clones that she didn’t immediately recognize. Catcher must’ve been off in the hangar or taking care of his own duties. She’d know him when she saw him; it wasn’t always easy to distinguish which Clone was which until they spoke and flat out told you who they were. Some were clever enough to decorate their armor, and others deviated from the mirror-like appearance by changing their hair or adding a tattoo to stand out.

Catcher’s aberration was a thick scar under his chin and a decorative silver hoop pierced through his left ear. When she was younger, Iza had expressed mild jealousy over the Clone being allowed to adorn himself with jewelry. Jedi were not allowed even the smallest of decorations, as it counted as a material possession that she wasn’t supposed to have either. When warned that her jealousy could cause her to toe the edge of a place best not explored, Iza had given up on wanting one for herself and just admired Catcher’s instead.

Serving herself up some of whatever was beneath the lids of the deep platters, Iza took her tray to a corner of the hall, fully expecting to have to eat alone. She hadn’t even sat down for longer than a minute when the shadow of a figure bloomed over her and made her look up.

“You look like you could use company,” Catcher didn’t even ask as he dropped himself onto the bench across from her, setting his helmet beside him. “You’ve got that look on your face again, too. That one that always means trouble.”

Eyeing the way the Clone wagged a finger at her, Iza snorted and swallowed a spoonful of her broth before mockingly waving the spoon at him. “Where have _you_ been? You were supposed to relieve me of babysitting duties over an hour ago.”

“Busy.” He gestured to the helmet on the bench. “General Kenobi asked a favor of me.”

“He did?”

Grunting, Catcher reached across the table and stole a piece of bread from her tray, biting into it like it’d been for him all along. “Don’t go asking _what for_ , either. It wasn’t exciting, anyway.”

“Anything is more exciting than playing chess with a child for…” blinking slowly, Iza sat up and looked around. “How long have we been out here?”

Catcher’s laugh was loud and hearty and brought a smile to the corners of Iza’s lips, even after he tutted at her and wagged his finger once more. “Are you _sure_ they knighted the right Jedi? The girl I knew as Padawan Tacor was far more in tune with her surroundings.”

“You’re not funny.” Iza made a face at him, forcing herself to stop smiling and pout down into her food. Upon seeing his hand come into view to steal another piece of bread, however, she lightly rapped the back of his knuckles with her spoon and pointed back towards the line. “Get your _own_.”

Tutting again, Catcher got up from the bench to go collect his own tray of food and left Iza to eat hers. When he was out of her line of sight, the brunette was almost startled to see that Master Obi-Wan had _barely_ budged from his spot outside the hall. He appeared to be busy speaking to someone and she wasn’t able to see who it was from this angle.

No matter. It wasn’t any of her business anyway. She wasn’t here to keep eyes on Master Obi-Wan, but to keep eyes on the Twi’lek child. Unfortunately, it seemed as though Master Obi-Wan had other plans.

As soon as he’d finished speaking with whomever was out in the hallway with him, he strolled right into the mess hall and settled himself on the bench across from her, seeming to take no note of Catcher’s helmet marking his place.

“Hello,” his smile was warm as he produced a stack of bound tomes and set them in front of her. “For you.”

“What’s all this?” Covering her mouth so he wouldn’t have to watch her chew what was left in her mouth, Iza absentmindedly wiped her fingers off on her robes before reaching for one of the books.

“To keep you occupied. Master Windu told me you have a mind that tends to wander if it is not kept busy, and since I don’t have much else for you to do while we’re running this errand I thought you might enjoy thumbing through a few of these.” Waving his hand at the small stack, he continued to smile and only looked away when Catcher returned and found his seat had been stolen.

“General Kenobi,” giving a curt nod, Catcher claimed a spot on the other end of the bench and pulled his helmet closer to him before he began to eat.

“Thank you, Master Obi-Wan.” Well, she could at least be a _little_ less formal if he was going to gift her with something that would relieve her of her boredom, right?

“I’m unsure what languages you’ve been instructed in, but these are all Basic Standard translations.”

“She speaks about four different languages,” Catcher piped from the other side of the table, looking almost proud even though his eyes were still set on his food. “Some, she probably _shouldn’t_ know.”

“ _Catcher_ ,” if Obi-Wan hadn’t been in front of her, she might’ve thrown her spoon at him.

“There’s no need to hide your intelligence, Iza.” The Jedi Master’s voice was light with amusement. “I was told you had a fondness for seeking knowledge and Master Windu speaks very highly of your desire to _know_.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Honestly, she was a bit flustered by the whole thing. Sure, Iza was more than happy to have something to read while she sat and watched the boring child, but this was an _oddly timed_ gift. If she didn’t know any better, Iza would sooner think that Catcher had been sent to fetch these tomes as a _favor_ for Master Obi-Wan.

But that wasn’t the type of man Obi-Wan was and she knew it. Everyone knew it. Perhaps he was still feeling sorry for her because she’d nearly died on that planet. Perhaps he was just being _kind_.

“I appreciate this, sir.” Offering up a nod of gratitude and a smile to follow, Iza brought the books closer to her side of the table and didn’t dare glance down at Catcher when she heard him snort again. “I will take great care of them and return them when I’ve finished with them.”

Getting a satisfied hum from the man across from her, Iza watched him rise as he bid her farewell and left the hall. When he was gone, Catcher wasted no time scooting back down the bench and propping his scarred chin in his hand, shooting the younger woman a look.

“There’s no need to hide your intelligence, _Iza_ ,” he teased, flashing a quick grin.

“ ** _Catcher_** _._ ” Obi-Wan wasn’t here to save him from a good spoon to the head now. It was only the fact that she knew it was extremely improper behavior for a Jedi that she didn’t thwap the Clone upside the head with the back end of the metal utensil.

“I picked those out, you know,” sitting up straight again, Catcher took a bite of his dinner and pointed at the books. “There’s one of those silly storybooks you like so much in there, too.”

“Is this what he asked of you?” Moving her tray to the side, Iza picked one of the books up and opened it to scan the first few pages. “To get me something to read?”

“No.” He answered flatly, chewing. “This was something I offered to do.”

“Thank you.”

“No need. You’d probably end up bothering _me_ more often if I didn’t help General Kenobi find some way to occupy your time in between shifts with the little tai—Twi’lek.”

Giving a light kick to Catcher’s armored shin beneath the table, it was Iza’s turn to tut at him. “Don’t call her a tailhead. She’s a child, and that term is _offensive_ , Catcher.”

He eyed her a moment, features hard to read, before giving a light nod and going back to his food. “Apologies, Sir.”

“ _Iza_.”

“What?”

“You may call me Iza, Catcher. We’re not on official business.” _Oh_. Is this what Master Obi-Wan had been trying to get across? That being addressed so formally was uncomfortable in private conversation? Well, she would have to bend her personal rules a little in the future, then. “If you must, you can continue to place _Jedi_ in front of my name.”

He lifted a dismissive hand as if to say that it wouldn’t be a problem, then cleared his throat. “I apologize, Iza.”

She’d opened her mouth to tell him that it was all right when an alarm began blaring loudly overhead. Both Iza and Catcher stood at once, looking to the door to see a few troopers running past with Anakin and Ahsoka on their heels. Abandoning her books, Iza moved to catch up, fingers lightly curling around the base of her lightsaber _just in case_.

“Master Skywalker, what’s happening?!” she called once she’d fallen into stride with the younger man, hearing Catcher’s heavy footsteps as he rushed to keep up.

“Yaz'jeku is not in her room,” Anakin was panting as he ran and his eyes stayed facing forward, though Iza didn’t need him to look at her to make her feel guilty. “She slipped past her guard and it’s unclear where she may have gone.”

~*~*~*~

Iza thought her knees were going to meld with the flooring as she knelt in front of the Ambassador and listened to him holler about how _useless_ the Jedi were at keeping people safe. She, of course, was getting the brunt of the verbal lashing because Yaz'jeku was _her_ charge, and she’d lost her. Well, not _lost_. The girl was still somewhere aboard the ship. Anakin and the Clones had triple checked to make sure none of the pods had been ejected and that all of the on-board fighters were still docked where they should be. That little Twi’lek wouldn’t know how to pilot one, anyhow.

But finding a child on a large ship wasn’t an easy task even with every hand on deck searching high and low. With every loud holler from the man in front of her, Iza braced herself as though she thought he was going to physically lash out at her. Her Master had a temper at times, so she was used to having someone raise their voice at her, but this was different. This had her feeling almost helpless, and it wasn’t something she was fond of. As an Ambassador, if this man were to raise a hand to her, she wasn’t sure if she’d be allowed to strike back if the blow wasn’t meant to take her life.

“I think that’s enough, Ambassador,” the firm tone of Master Kenobi offered no reassurance as he came to stand beside the kneeling Jedi Knight and relieve her of her stance. “It is not Jedi Tacor’s fault that Yaz'jeku is wandering the ship. Now please, remain calm and return to your quarters. I assure you that we’re doing everything we can to locate your daughter.”

A growl was heard before the Ambassador seemed to relent, turning to leave the room. Once Iza sensed he was far enough away, she let her shoulders sag and dragged her fingers into her hair, upsetting the knot it’d been tied in. Getting up slowly, she blew out a heavy breath and stole a quick glance at Obi-Wan before heading for the door.

“I’ll meet up with Catcher and his men. See if I can’t—”

“I’d like for you to assist me in finding young Yaz'jeku.” There was that firmness to his tone again that let Iza know this wasn’t a request, but a polite demand. “She trusts you. If several Clone Troopers come charging in looking for her, it’s likely that she’ll just stay hidden wherever she is. You’ve spent enough time with her that she’d be comfortable if she saw your face.”

“Then let me go with _them_.”

“I don’t think the poor thing has made her way down into the belly of the ship.” Looking back over his shoulder, Obi-Wan turned on his heel to start leading the way out of the room and down the hall, motioning for Iza to follow. “Something tells me that she was far more interested in you than you believe. Have you been back to your quarters this evening, Jedi Iza?”

“No sir.” She needed to get those books from the mess hall and bring them into the room, though. She didn’t want to think about what a custodial droid might do if it found them just sitting out.

“Perhaps you should start there,” gesturing in front of him, Obi-Wan waited while Iza stepped forward to open the door to her sleeping chamber.

Immediately, she sensed something out of place. There was a feeling of _fear_ here that didn’t belong. There were no belongings of hers to be out of place, but the door to her closet shouldn’t have been open. She’d stored her cloak in a _drawer_. Glancing back at Master Obi-Wan, Iza slowly eased closer to the closet and listened carefully. She could hear soft breathing coming from inside and very slowly reached out to open the door the rest of the way.

The tiny magenta-skinned girl lay curled up on a stack of spare linens, fast asleep. For a moment, Iza wanted to laugh, only refraining out of fear of waking the little one. Taking a deep, quiet breath she knelt and carefully lifted the girl into her arms, turning back to Obi-Wan as she carefully carried her out. “How did you know?”

“A feeling. Come, we should bring her back to her father so he can rest easy for the night.”

~*~*~*~

Sleep had not been an issue for Iza for a long while, but she’d rolled over countless times and still couldn’t find a position comfortable enough to let herself drift off. She’d tried reading and gazing out the window at the endless sea of stars and even _meditating_ , but none of it worked. After the third hour of lying on the bed wide awake and restless, she got up and left the room. She had a vague idea of the layout of this ship, and knew where her destination would be simply because _most_ transport ships were built with the same lower deck arrangement. As she tiptoed her way down the stairs leading to the crew’s quarters, Iza listened to the sounds of the Clones' collective laughter getting louder the closer she got. _Perfect_.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A hand dropped onto her shoulder and if it hadn’t been for the playful squeeze—and the fact that she _knew_ who the voice belonged to—Iza might’ve drawn her weapon on instinct.

“ ** _Catch_** ,” his name was a sharp huff of breath that came along with a swift swat to the hand on her shoulder. “Can’t you be _louder_ when you sneak up on someone?”

The hint of a smile twitched the corner of his lips upward, but he continued to look at her expectantly. “What are you doing down here, Jedi Iza?”

“I can’t sleep.” No, she wasn’t looking at him directly. In fact, she was staring at a very fascinating _dent_ in the wall.

“So you thought you’d come bother me? Why am I not surprised?” Rolling his eyes, the Clone dropped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side with a click of his tongue, half dragging her down the hall to where the rest of his brothers were. Those familiar with the young Knight gave polite nods and brief waves in her direction before immediately going back to their conversation, while others simply ignored Catcher while he guided the girl further into the room and gestured to one of the empty bunks near the back. “Have a seat.”

“They look like they’re having fun,” Iza looked on curiously as she watched the Clones engage with each other and _tried_ not to feel that old familiar pang of jealousy. Emotional attachments were not allowed among the Jedi, so watching the Clones treat one another like a giant family of brothers was difficult at times. It would occasionally make her miss the family she’d left behind on Coruscant—a family that she knew was _always_ there, but she could never see. Master Windu had been especially harsh when it came to attachments, but he was always especially harsh when trying to get her to overcome something she struggled with letting go of.

“I probably shouldn’t give you this, but what the hell?” Pressing a bottle into the palm of Iza’s hand, Catcher shrugged and gave her a nudge. “Go easy on it, though. Sweet Milk might be a bit strong for a Little Bit like you.”

Iza snorted at him and took a quick sip, unsure if she liked the texture of the liquid. The flavor wasn’t overpowering, but it had a bit of a _kick_ once it hit the back of her throat that warmed her all the way through. Yeah—this probably wasn’t a great idea.

“Now what’s going on in that head of yours, Iza?” Catcher waved his finger in little circles as he smiled at the young Jedi, leaning back against the bunk wall and taking a sip from his bottle. “I know you. You’re only sleep deprived when you can’t shut everything off. You’re like a droid who needs its battery pack taken out so it doesn’t overload.”

“I don’t know.” It was an honest answer. “I feel like I didn’t have enough time to unwind at the Temple before Master Obi-Wan pulled me into this.” Taking another sip, she made a face and then looked up at Catcher. “ _Why_ did he pull me into this? He has Master Skywalker and Padawan Ahsoka, and I’ve heard _great_ things about how she handles children. She’s much better than I am.”

Catcher let out a soft _hmm_ as he studied her a moment, then shrugged and offered a playful sort of smirk. “You’re the Jedi. You’re supposed to be able to _feel_ intentions, right? Run your little Force fingers into his brain and see what he wants.”

“That’s not how that works, Catch,” not to mention it was a blatant violation of Master Obi-Wan’s privacy. Besides, she wasn’t sure she even knew how to _do_ that. Master Windu could peer into her mind when needed, but she’d never been able to reach into his. “Is it true what Anaki—Master Skywalker said?”

Catcher let out a short laugh and gave her a look, gesturing to the bottle in her hand. “Had enough to start slipping up already, eh? Maybe I should cut you off before you start speaking one of your other languages.”

“Catcher, please,”

“What exactly did General Skywalker say?” A hand came up and absently brushed a loose bit of hair off of Iza’s face before Catcher took a long drink from his bottle, side-eyeing her.

“That Master Obi-Wan spent a whole day in the medical bay after we were rescued?”

Another grunt; another drink. “Might be.”

“ _Catcher_ ,”

“What would you like me to say, Iza? I was just as out of it as the rest of our men and I was worried sick about you the whole time. If General Kenobi was in the medical bay _with us_ , then I have no recollection of it.”

There was a pause in the noise from the other side of the room and Iza was extremely uncomfortable with the dozens of pairs of eyes watching them. Deciding to take a good, long drink just to give herself something to do, she shut her eyes against the heat in her chest and was relieved when the buzz of noise started back up again. It did nothing to ease the tension in the bunk, however, and she was soon faced with the fact that she was going to have to say something soon.

“What’s got you interested in General Kenobi all of a sudden?” Catcher decided to beat her to the punch, his dark eyes leveling with hers. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so much as glance in his direction before. Why so fascinated now?”

“I’m not _fascinated_ by anyone!” Perhaps raising her voice wasn’t the best idea. “It’s not _me_ who has the sudden interest, Catcher. I’m just as confused as you are about all this. I thought maybe you’d have more insight on the situation.”

“Well, I don’t. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“What’s _wrong_ with you?”

“Not a damn thing, sweetheart.” He smiled at her but it was wry and not like him in the slightest. Iza couldn’t understand what she’d done to deserve this from him, but she certainly didn’t feel like sticking around to deal with it.

Getting up quickly from the bunk, she set her near-empty bottle down on a crate that had been repurposed into a table, and started to head out.

“Iza,” Catcher called from the bunk, poking his head out before rolling to his feet to follow. “Iza, wait a minute,”

“Excuse me,” Iza’s voice was soft and polite as she weaved through the Clones, most of whom were happy enough to step out of her way. Reaching the stairs, she started to climb them only to feel a strong tug at the hem of her robes.

“ _Iza_ ,”

“I have very important business to attend to in the morning, Catcher.” Her voice retained all of its usual politeness, but the look in her green eyes was enough to make the Clone release the material from between his fingers. “Good night.”

“…right. ‘Night.”

Turning on her heel, Iza marched her way out of the Clone’s quarters and back towards the main deck of the ship, feeling her head starting to get lighter and fuzzier as the Sweet Milk drink began to catch up with her. Perhaps she’d been a bit reckless in drinking so much when she wasn’t used to having more than a glass of wine during special ceremonies. She’d never felt quite this _helpless_ after drinking before. It was like her body had detached from her mind and both wanted to work independently from each other. If she couldn’t make it to her quarters before the alcohol truly caught up to her, she feared she might be in more trouble than the drink had been worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not usually this active with writing anymore but there's something about this story that is just _driving_ me. I have no idea how long it will be, to be perfectly honest, or what direction it might actually go in. But I'm enjoying the ride so far, and I hope that you do too.


	3. Every Breath You Take

The last thing Iza remembered was leaning up against the corridor wall for support.

And then she was waking up to the sensation of _floating_. No, not floating—being carried. Her jumbled brain could hardly recognize the Force Signature of the one who held her, but she was quickly brought back to her rescue from just days before. She knew the feeling of being held in _these_ arms, specifically.

“Master…?” was that _her_ voice that sounded so drawn out and slurred? Stars, what had been in that Sweet Milk? She couldn’t seem to open her eyes right away, and moving her head around caused a wave of horrible dizziness to fill her head. Scrunching her face in discomfort, she turned and pushed her face against his shoulder as though it might bring some sort of relief.

“Are you ill?” Obi-Wan’s voice held no emotion she could easily pick out in her state, but he’d halted in his movements long enough to carefully readjust her in his arms and give her time to answer.

Shaking her head slowly with a miserable sounding grunt, Iza huffed a breath out into his robes and cringed at the smell of alcohol that wafted back at her. _Oh dear._ He already knew, didn’t he?

“Yes, I do.” he was already walking again, footsteps light against the metal flooring of the ship.

“I hate it when you _do_ that,” groaning again, Iza kept her face tucked in its spot. “Always _peering_.”

“ _You’re_ always projecting,” well, _that_ was an accusatory tone. “I’m surprised Master Windu hasn’t said anything about it.”

“I don’t _project_.” Now she was leaning back to look at him, opening her blurry eyes to give him what she hoped was an indignant look. “My Master taught me well. I know how to keep myself in check.”

“Is that right?” the look in his blue eyes now matched the tone of his voice and Iza scoffed at him and pushed a hand against his shoulder.

“Put me down,” she was already lifting a leg to make an attempt at getting down by herself, but Obi-Wan held on for another brief moment before bending at the knee and setting her tentatively back onto her feet. “I can handle myself.”

“I don’t believe you can,” he’d folded his arms over his chest, watching carefully as Iza took a few steps away from him.

“Is this what I’m here for?” Leaning up against the wall, Iza blinked a few times to clear her vision and focused on the man in front of her. It was easier said than done, but she managed. “Have you brought me with you because you believe I’m incapable of a Jedi Knight’s duties?”

“On the contrary,” he shrugged, “I believe you’re quite capable. However—in this moment—I do believe you’re _drunk_ , Jedi Tacor. Where and how you managed to acquire the beverage aboard this vessel is not my concern,” _did he **have** to sense her worry all the time?_ “I simply felt you’d be more comfortable in your own chambers instead of propped up against a wall the way you were.”

“That isn’t what I asked you.”

A hint of a smile appeared on Obi-Wan’s lips, though it was wiped away as he ran his hand over his bearded face and let out something like an impatient sigh. “I was _asked_ to bring you along.”

It took more than a moment for the information to hit Iza and actually sink in. Staring up at the older man, she squinted lightly and then let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Master Windu… _asked you_ …”

“He believes you could benefit from my teachings.”

“I don’t need you to teach me anything.”

A brow lifted high on Obi-Wan’s head and he shot her a look that was hard to read, but clearly unamused. Humming, he nodded once and waved a hand almost dismissively. “You’re correct. You don’t _need_ me to teach you. You’ve learned quite a lot from your own Master, however— _he_ is the one who made the request. _He_ believes there’s more to your potential, and he’s asked for my assistance.”

Iza could already feel the warmth of anger starting to pool in her gut. Alcohol, like most intoxicants, had a severe tendency to weaken one’s grasp on their control of their emotions, and Iza was no exception. It was likely the reason that she’d been advised to steer clear of such luxuries unless _absolutely necessary_. But **control** was the last thing on her mind right now.

Right now, all Iza could think about was how hurt and… betrayed she felt by her own Master. They stuck to a personal code where _everything_ was out in the open, and he’d gone behind her back and recruited Master Kenobi to, what? Continue her teachings? Had she not already been Knighted? Was the ugly, grown out tuft of hair behind her ear _not_ a proud badge to display what all of her hard work had earned her? _How_ could he toss her to another Jedi Master for learning purposes without at least telling her of his intention? Was he _that_ ashamed of her recent failure?

“Enough of that,”

Iza seemed to snap out of her thoughts long enough to find that Master Obi-Wan was giving her a hard stare, like he’d been staring into her the entire time. Scoffing at him, she turned to leave and felt a hand on her shoulder. “Do _not_ touch me.”

“I’m not letting you leave until you’ve calmed down.” He would, however, drop his hand away.

“Get out of my head and _maybe_ I will.”

“I told you, you’re projecting. Anyone around us who is Sensitive can feel and hear what **you’re** thinking and feeling. You know this.”

“I have _complete_ control over myself!” Turning a little too fast to face him once more, Iza’s head swirled and the room spun lightly around her, and she suddenly found herself landing hard on her backside on the floor. A hand went out to stop Obi-Wan from attempting to provide assistance in any way, and she shut her eyes against the spinning sensation that threatened to bring up her dinner.

“Complete control? Really?” that mocking tone of his was working her last nerve. “Is this why you’re drunk on duty?”

Iza wanted to curse at him, but that was almost more disrespectful than arguing with him. “It was not…” _breathe. Breathe and it will go away._ “…it was not my intention, Master.”

“What _was_ your intention, getting drunk with the Clones?”

Licking her lips, the young Jedi shook her head and let her shoulders slump, her head coming to rest against her knees. “It’s not like that. I couldn’t sleep.” She wouldn’t be having that problem now, would she?

The silence in the corridor stretched on, but Iza could feel the tension starting to wane until finally she heard a sigh and the sound of arms being dropped at their sides.

“I’m going to reassign Yaz'jeku to Ahsoka for the next few days. _You_ are going to spend that time working with me on your projection problem.”

Her head snapped up to object. “I don’t _have—_ ”

“For now,” Obi-Wan was not having any of her nonsense, clearly, as he continued on, stepping forward until he was close enough for the toes of his boots to nearly touch hers. “You’ll return to your quarters and sleep off whatever it was you were given. I will speak to the Clone who gave it to you.”

“Leave him alone.”

“He should be reprimanded for irresponsible behav—”

“If you want me to comply, you’ll leave Catcher out of this.” Perhaps it was a little uncouth to threaten not to obey Master Obi-Wan, but her friend had done nothing wrong. He’d offered her a drink and she’d taken it; any fault should immediately fall on _her_ shoulders, not his.

“Very well,” he looked disgruntled, but willing to relent. Offering a hand to her, the older Jedi waited patiently to see if she’d take it. “But I expect _full compliance_.”

It wasn’t hesitation that kept Iza from slipping her hand into his right away, but a certain sense of discomfort at that statement. He was not her Master and she was not his Padawan—she was _no longer_ a Padawan at all. But he also left little room for her to argue about it any further. If she was going to be frustrated with someone, it needed to be Master Windu for putting her in Obi-Wan’s hands in the first place.

Taking the offered hand, she let him pull her to her feet and steadied herself, glancing down the long corridor ahead.

“Please,” his tone was back to that kind lilt she was used to and when she looked, Iza saw him offering his arm to her. “Allow me.”

She’d bit back the relenting sigh as she took hold of his forearm and allowed him to start leading her down the corridor, focusing hard on keeping her mind as empty as she possibly could. It was no easy task after having been told her Master was practically chucking her off on another Jedi for _more_ training, but she seemed to manage just fine during the slow walk to her chamber. Somewhere along the way, she’d felt her eyelids growing heavier and her footsteps started to drag. Twice, she stumbled and righted herself, looking more startled than alert.

Beside her, Obi-Wan made no comments. He simply—patiently—waited for her to gather herself and continued on walking once he was sure she was ready. And then she tripped over herself a _third_ time and he could bear it no longer. Without a word, he stooped and swept her up off of her feet once more, surprised when she didn’t fight him. She’d been so adamant about being _in control_ that he half expected her to throw a punch in her drunken state and continue declaring that she could _do it herself_. This was much easier, and much faster.

“Don’t be so smug,” Iza mumbled, planting her cheek to his shoulder with a defeated grunt.

“I beg your pardon?” Halting in his tracks, he eyed her warily, looking a bit startled.

“I know when to yield, Master,” she said it so casually, as if they’d fully discussed why he’d scooped her up again.

“I said nothing,” Obi-Wan insisted.

Again, there was a silence that surrounded the two of them as they stared back at one another with a mixture of awe and intense curiosity in their features. Iza was the first to look away, grunting and waving her fingers dismissively.

“Thought I heard you say something. My mistake.” No, she _knew_ she’d heard him say something. She’d very clearly heard him comment on how stubborn she was, and that it was about time she stopped fighting to maintain her _silly façade_.

The elder of the two Jedi could only nod and continue on down the hall, reaching Iza’s chamber shortly. Once more, he spilled her onto her feet and took a step back, tucking his hands behind his back. “I’ll send a droid to check on you in the morning. If you’re feeling up to it, we can start your training tomorrow. For now, please do get some rest.”

“Yes Master,” nodding, Iza pressed her fingers against the panel to open the doors, stepping inside the small room. “Good night.”

“Good night, Jedi Tacor.”

~*~*~*~

Iza stayed in bed for nearly the entirety of the next day, shooing out the droid who’d come in to check up on her each time. When she finally was able to roll herself out of the cot without wanting to vomit, it was quite late in the day. Grabbing a quick shower to scrub off the next-day grubbiness from being intoxicated, she’d headed out to see if she couldn’t meet up with someone other than Master Obi-Wan and was almost immediately intercepted by that damned droid again.

The series of short beeps and shrill chirps had her making a face and groaning in misery. She felt like a Padawan again hearing that Obi-Wan was requesting her presence. Giving the machine a dirty look, Iza gestured for it to lead the way and followed behind slowly, dragging her feet as she walked. Hadn’t Master Obi-Wan said that they’d pursue a lesson if she was feeling up to it? Well, she _wasn’t_. She would almost rather relieve Ahsoka of her duties and go back to babysitting the little Twi’lek girl instead, but something told her that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

“Jedi Iza,” a deep voice had her looking up and the sight of Catcher brought a swell of hope to her chest. Maybe _he_ could be her excuse for getting out of this premature lesson?

“Catch,” stopping even as the droid rolled on, she smiled up at the Clone and folded her hands in front of her. “Hello.”

“You feeling okay?” he did look concerned, but he was also casting glances back down the way he’d come. Was he worried about something else?

“Little bit of a headache, but I’m fine.” Searching his face like it might reveal whatever truths he was hiding, she reached up and gave his shoulder a nudge. “What’s with you?”

“On duty. Not supposed to mingle.” Wiggling his fingers at her, he winked and gave her arm a light pat. “Get yourself a protein cube. They’re great for hangovers.”

“Will do.” Nodding, she opened her mouth to say something else only to have the droid return, beeping and whirring loudly in annoyance. “Will you _relax?_ I need a moment!”

The droid gave an almost indignant beep, then turned and rolled down the hall a short ways. Shaking her head, Iza looked up again when she heard Catcher chuckling.

“Be nice to the tin can, eh? It’s just doing its job.” He seemed to grin at her without grinning at all, his dark eyes sparkling under the lights of the ship.

“Oh, _fine_ ,” rolling her eyes at him, she made a face and broke out into another smile when Catcher bumped his shoulder into hers. “Go. You’re on duty. We’ll talk in the Mess.”

“Yes Sir,” nodding in his usual professional way, he gave her a quick salute and another wink before donning his helmet again and heading down the hall to continue his patrol.

Iza watched him leave and then turned to continue following the droid down to wherever it was Master Obi-Wan had taken up roost. Funny, she almost hadn’t needed the droid to guide her way and had even begun to walk ahead of it, steering herself through the corridors until she found where his Force Signature was the strongest. That was odd; the only person she’d ever been able to sense out so easily like that was her own Master, but only because of the Bond they shared.

The soft _whoosh_ of the door sliding open in front of her was all the invitation she needed to step inside, finding herself in a room similar to hers, if not a _tad_ roomier. Upon second glance she realized it was only roomier because there was less furniture; a simple cot in the corner, the standing closet and a small table where she saw a stack of datapads and a mug. Master Obi-Wan truly lived by the code, didn’t he?

“You’re awake,” _Stars above_ , his voice nearly scared the life out of her. “But you don’t look rested.”

“I’m all right,” she was going to have to keep insisting this. Iza felt _fine_ , despite her appearance. “It’s just a headache.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Your little friend rushed me down here.” Waving at the droid, who beeped cheerfully, Iza turned to face the man and realized with a sick feeling that he wasn’t _there_. “…Master?”

“Yes?”

“Is this some sort of game?” Where the hell could he hide in here? There was the bathroom, but there was no echo to his voice. It was like he was standing behind her—no, _beside_ her. “It’s not funny.”

“I agree,” the door opened behind her and in stepped the older Jedi, looking deeply concerned. “It is not funny at all.”

“How did you do that? How did you vanish from inside and—”

“I hadn’t made it back yet. You arrived before I did.” He studied her hard, blue eyes remaining focused while trying to mask the utter confusion in his features.

“Master,” Iza didn’t like that look and she didn’t like the uneasiness in her voice. “What is going on?”

Inhaling deeply, Obi-Wan stepped further into the room and casually seated himself on the floor with his legs crossed. Gesturing to the spot in front of him, he waited for Iza to join before he spoke again.

“Iza,” he needed to choose his words carefully now. “I believe I may be able to answer your questions, but I’ll need you to answer a few of mine first. Would you do that for me?”

She gave a short nod, wondering what sort of answers _she_ could give him.

“You’ve Bonded to your Master, correct?”

“Correct.”

“May I ask how long it took for Master Windu to teach you to access that Bond? To trust him enough to let him reach across it in return?”

 _Force_ , she couldn’t remember. She must’ve still been a teenager. She remembered that it had been difficult; Master Windu wanted to strengthen the Bond between them to make it easier to train her, and to make it easier for him to help her let go of the things she shouldn’t hold onto. She’d certainly fought back against it, _that_ much she could recall, and it was only when he warned her that her vicious stubbornness to relinquish ties to the things that caused her mental and emotional anguish would lead her to the Dark Side that she’d listened.

“A long time,” she still couldn’t get into Master Windu’s head without express permission. His walls were like solid steel with no weak points. Shaking her head, she gave Obi-Wan an impatient look. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.” Running a hand down his face, the elder of the two spent a long time twisting the end of his mustache between his fingers, seemingly lost in thought. “I’d like, with your permission, to hold an experiment. I have… _a theory_.”

“What sort of theory?”

“We’ll get to that.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Iza fought back the urge to argue. They’d done enough of that the night before and she felt rather ashamed of herself for it, really. Getting uppity with a fellow Jedi was truly shameful on her behalf. Even if she was still mildly irritated over the idea that her Master had thrown her under the wing of another, she should take this as an opportunity to _learn_ and _grow_ , not fight against it.

“I’ll need your full trust, Iza.” Obi-Wan’s voice was once again warm and almost comforting. “And you’ll need to trust in those who partake in this experiment as well.”

If he’d just _explain_ himself, maybe Iza would have a better time extending that sort of trust to him and to whomever it was he planned to bring in for this little experiment. If there was one thing about Obi-Wan Kenobi that really rubbed her the wrong way, it was his _incessant_ need to be so damn cryptic. She could look past all of the moments of privacy invasion because nothing was as frustrating as this. At least Master Windu was up front about _most_ of his intentions.

“You have my trust, Master,” the words rolled off her tongue but the sincerity was lacking. It wasn’t that she _didn’t_ trust him; she just wanted her damned information.

“I don’t believe you.”

 _Stars_. Fixing him with a level stare, Iza leaned forward and frowned hard. “Believe what you must. Trust goes _both ways_ , Master Kenobi.”

That seemed to surprise him a little, and he reeled back slightly, eyes widening a fraction as his brows lifted higher on his forehead. He gave her a quick, appraising once-over and then nodded. “Indeed it does.”

“You don’t trust me,” _that’s_ what the emptiness in the room was. This place wasn’t missing furniture; it was missing his trust in her. “I can sense it.”

The man’s features remained surprisingly neutral for a long time, though his eyes seemed to flip through thirty different emotions all at once. When they settled on something like acceptance, he let out a heavy sigh and looked elsewhere in the room.

“I suppose there will be no need for my experiment after all.” He murmured, more to himself than to the young Jedi in front of him.

“Pardon?” Now it was Iza’s turn to be confused.

“My theory, young one, is that we share a Force Bond.” Was that… _regret_ in his tone? “A hastily forged one, but a Bond no less.”

“…forged?” Weren’t the Bonds supposed to come naturally? One needed to spend time with another Force Sensitive being in order to develop a bond, and _usually_ it was strictly between Master and Padawan. At least, that was what Master Windu had always told her. “I’m not sure I understand, sir,”

Running long fingers through his hair, the older Jedi stared at the floor for a long while, as if contemplating how to explain himself. It was only when the sound of footsteps of patrolling Clones outside of the door broke his trance that he looked up at her again.

“When I found you on that ship, you were nearly dead. I had your Clone friend in my ear asking if there was something I could do—he was practically _begging_ —so I did it. I used the Force and did what I could to bring you back to consciousness before getting you onto my ship and into the medical bay.” He paused, his eyes looking _sad_. “I suppose… I may have done too much.”

Iza felt as though all of the air had been sucked out of the chamber. She didn’t know what was worse: knowing she’d basically _died_ and come back to life and that poor Catcher had actually been distraught over it, or this Bond she was now made to share with a man who was not her true Master. He was hardly even a _friend_ , come to think of it. She didn’t dislike Master Kenobi, but she didn’t _know_ him, either. Sharing a Bond that felt seemingly stronger than the one she shared with Master Windu somehow felt **wrong**.

“May I leave?” She asked quietly, not liking the tightness that had begun to grip her throat.

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “You may.”

Iza wasted no time getting to her feet, slapping her hand down on the panel to open the door and let herself out of that suffocating room. The air in the corridor seemed just as thick and hard to inhale, but at least she was putting some distance between herself and _that man_. Her feet felt heavy as she walked, her mind racing at speeds so high she couldn’t keep up.

A forged Bond. Did her Master know? Was that why she’d been tossed at Obi-Wan’s feet like she was no longer of use to Windu? Or had the other Jedi been lying about her Master’s request for her to come along on this escort? No—Iza would’ve felt it if he’d lied to her. She knew that burning sensation in her blood when she was lied to by Master Windu, and it was part of the reason they had such an open partnership. No lies meant no anger, and no anger meant _peace_.

Her feet seemed to be on autopilot as she steered herself into the Mess Hall and dropped down on a bench beside Catcher, who was in the middle of trading stories with some of his brothers.

“Hey now!” His cheerful voice was followed by an arm being slung over her shoulders. “Don’t tell me you’ve still got that headache, Little Bit.”

All at once, Iza felt _everything_ slam into the middle of her chest, truly knocking what was left of the air out of her lungs and leaving her gasping as she turned and painfully planted her face against Catcher’s armored side. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks far too quickly for her to stop them, and it took a while before she realized that the pitiful wailing she heard was coming from her own throat.

Around her, the Clones had stopped their conversations and had all set eyes on the pair, but after a moment or two, someone nodded towards the door and they got up to give Catcher and Iza some privacy.

“What’s all this? _Iza_?” Moving back on the bench enough to look at her properly, Catcher fumbled with his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell to do. He couldn’t recall if he’d ever seen the girl _cry_ before, let alone upset beyond a moment of mild irritation. Flinching when her hand slapped the chest-plate he wore—mostly because he worried she’d bruise herself—he caught her wrist lightly between his fingers, and grasped her chin with the other hand. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I _died?!_ ” Green eyes stared up at him flooded with tears, burning into him as she tried to jerk her head out of his grasp. “You let him _Bond_ me?!”

A sick sort of realization washed over the Clone and left him feeling guilty. He hadn’t wanted her to find out. He’d asked General Kenobi to keep quiet about the matter entirely, and in turn he would grant whatever favors the Jedi asked of him. But her words confused him. What was this _Bond_ she was talking about? He’d only asked the General to bring her back—she hadn’t even been that far gone—and nothing more. She was much too young, her life too precious and important to the Order to be wasted freezing to death on some rock out in the ass-end of the cosmos. He’d only been trying to help.

“Iza,” he tried again, wishing she’d stop fighting against his hold. He felt like a brute gripping her this way, but he didn’t need her injuring herself trying to hit him through his armor. “Little Bit, _please_ ,”

“Do you know what you’ve _done?_ ” Finally managing to wrench out of his grasp, Iza moved back on the bench and shut her eyes against the next wave of tears. “Do you understand what I have to live with now?”

He couldn’t even give a shake of his head before she slammed her fist down on the table and sent a tray clattering to the floor.

“He’s in my head _forever_ , Catcher! I can’t pull him out!” Angrily tapping her fingertips against the side of her head, Iza grit her teeth and pressed her face into her palms, letting out a frustrated yell. “He’ll always _know_. He’ll always _feel_. I’ll never have the same kind of privacy I have with Master Windu.”

The only sounds in the Mess were that of Iza’s labored breathing interspersed with little hiccupped sobs. In the back of her head, she knew that Catcher had meant well. He always meant well. But she didn’t know if she could just simply look past this.

“Iza,” cautiously, Catcher set his hand on her shoulder and was met with a loud sob.

“I can’t have _anything_ else,” she whined, lifting her head to look at him. “I deserved the private sanctuary of my own mind.”


	4. Negotiations

Iza had kept herself in isolation from everyone else for the remainder of the escort to Ryloth, fully ignoring any invitation from _anyone_ to come to meals or for a walk around the ship. She’d jammed the sensor lock to her door and re-coded it—something she was going to have to apologize for and fix later—to keep people out and had been in a state of deep meditation for several days by the time the ship docked on the planet.

Her sole intention was to block everything, and _everyone_ , out for as long as she possibly could. She knew there would be a short bit of leisure time on Ryloth before they’d be heading back to Coruscant, and if she couldn’t keep her shields up the entire time _and_ enjoy herself while she was there then she’d simply stay locked in this chamber until they returned to the Temple.

Dangerous as it was to stay locked in her own mind this way, it was a nice escape from the panic and the pain from days before. The best part seemed to be that Master Obi-Wan hadn’t yet found a way to weasel past her guard. In fact, she’d been keeping light tabs on his Force Signature every so often and found that he was willingly keeping himself to the opposite end of the ship. _Good_. Maybe once they got back home, she could speak to her true Master and ask how she might go about breaking this Bond she never asked to share.

On the day they were set to dock, Iza finally slipped back into herself, not surprised in the least by how exhausted and hungry she felt. How many days had it been? Stars above, she couldn’t remember. But she felt lighter than air and quite pleasant regardless as she opened the door to her chamber and wandered out into the hall.

“You’re alive,” Anakin’s voice was full of mock surprise. “We were beginning to wonder.”

The movements of her body felt fluid as Iza turned to raise an eyebrow at him and gave a light tilt of her head towards where she knew Master Kenobi’s personal quarters resided. “Perhaps you should’ve brought your concerns to Master Obi-Wan.”

A laugh followed and Anakin pushed away from the wall, twirling something between his fingers. A tool of some kind. Upon closer inspection, Iza could see that he’d been trying to fiddle with her door’s control panel.

“ **Oh** ,” _whoops_. “I’ll fix it. I know how.”

“As do I.” Shrugging, the younger Jedi knelt and fit the panel’s cover back into place. “I only did this to get him to stop pacing.”

“Master Kenobi?”

“ _Your Clone_.”

Oh boy. Iza could feel her cheeks start to flush lightly as she pressed her lips together and fought the urge to tug at that damned tuft of hair. _No_. She couldn’t fidget. “He isn’t _mine_. He belongs to the Grand Army.”

Half of a snicker left Anakin’s throat and he shot her a look over his shoulder. “Has anyone told _him_ that? He’s quite loyal to you.”

Deciding that she’d rather not ruin every last second she’d spent masking the things in her head, Iza straightened herself and lifted her chin. “Have we docked yet, Master Skywalker?”

“Just about,” turning back to the panel, he shrugged. “But I’m afraid we’re staying on board. Master Obi-Wan has decided to take the Twi’leks to their destination and immediately return to Coruscant.”

“What?” What about her sorry excuse for a vacation? Wasn’t she going to get to see at least a _little_ bit of Ryloth?

Waving a hand, Anakin sounded almost bored as he spoke, “We’ve got more important things to do than sit around. There’s a war going on, you know? Can’t waste time on sitting around.”

She felt as though that last comment had meant to be a jab, and she was going to take it as such. Drawing in a slow breath, Iza nodded and started to walk off. “Thank you for your time, Master Skywalker.”

“You know it’s forbidden, right?” he called out to her, still fussing with the panel’s cover.

Iza stopped dead, refusing to turn around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone saw you, Jedi Tacor,” finally getting up from his spot with a grunt, Anakin tossed the tool into a box and brushed his hands off on his trousers. “You and that Clone—”

“ _He has a name_.”

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with it.” _Okay_ , so maybe he wasn’t being purposefully disrespectful. Iza knew he led a faction of his own men, so there had to be _some_ sense of respect there, right?

“It’s Catcher,”

Walking up beside her, the younger Jedi gave the lightest nudge to urge her to continue walking. He waited a moment or two before continuing where he’d left off before. “Everyone saw the two of you in the Mess.”

“There was nothing to see,” she stared straight ahead; chin up, features as neutral as she could keep them.

“I don’t know about that.” Smirking lightly, Anakin glanced over at her and sighed. “There seemed to be plenty to see when we arrived.”

“I was _upset_.” He really couldn’t be saying that the entire ship had confused a simple hug with something more. Catcher had only wanted her to stop crying. Perhaps he shouldn’t have cradled her like a doll, and _maybe_ it looked bad to everyone else when she’d stopped fighting him off and given in to his attempts at comfort. “There wasn’t anything _questionable_ about it.”

Anakin looked as though he didn’t entirely believe her, but also wasn’t going to say so. He simply shrugged and continued, “If Master Obi-Wan had seen, you’d get more than just a fair warning about it. He’d probably be scolding you, or threatening to tell your Master if you don’t let go of that Clone. But…” he smiled, shrugged again, and turned a hand up. “I am not Master Obi-Wan. I think you deserve a fair chance to decide what it is you wish to do. Just be careful.”

Giving a quick nod of departure, Anakin turned on his heel and started to head down another corridor, leaving Iza alone and quite _confused_. What exactly was it that the Jedi _thought_ he knew about her friendship with Catcher? And why was he giving her this warning? Did he think she was naïve about the rules of the Order? As if she _hadn’t_ gone through the same trials.

Eyeballing his retreating back, Iza clenched her jaw and decided it might be best to ignore him for now. She’d keep his words somewhere in the back of her mind, but wouldn’t worry until she had to.

~*~*~*~

Iza hadn’t wanted to hang out in the Mess Hall, nor had she felt any desire to run into Master Kenobi or even Catcher at this point in time. She was truly well and _miffed_ that there would be no spare leisure time spent on the little planet they’d spent all this time going to, and _now_ she had even more worry to pile onto her plate after her conversation with Anakin. Maybe she should’ve just grabbed an armload of ration packs and gone back to her chambers until they’d reached Coruscant. She could spend the rest of the trip continuing to meditate and strengthening her barriers to keep Master Kenobi _out_ before she had to kick him out for good.

But _no_ , she had to tempt fate and explore the place, didn’t she? She just had to wander around aimlessly until she found herself in the ship’s hangar. Iza had never really been interested in fighter birds—though she was well versed on how to pilot one—but the deck was at least a new place to wander around for a while.

“Jedi Tacor!” Ahsoka’s face seemed to light up as she scooted out from beneath one of the smaller fighters, setting a large tool aside and brushing her hands off on her leggings. “We were getting worried.”

“I’m fine, but I appreciate your concern, Padawan Ahsoka.” Looking from the girl to the ship she’d been working on, a small smile formed at the corner of her lips before she raised a hand and pointed. “Is this…?”

“Mine? No. It’s a clunker, but my Master said it’s good for me to know how to repair a fighter if I need to. You know, just in case.” Shrugging, the much younger Padawan smiled brightly and pulled Iza closer to show her the work she’d put in. “See? I’ve done all of this rewiring myself. It’s a little sloppy, I guess, but Anakin always says that as long as it stays in the air, that’s what matters.”

Iza couldn’t help chuckling at the girl’s enthusiasm. “You really admire your Master, don’t you?”

Ahsoka’s answer was a firm nod and Iza could see the shadow of her Padawan braid swinging over her shoulder. She remembered being in Ahsoka’s shoes, always wanting to be at Master Windu’s heels while also wishing he’d allow her the space she needed to prove herself worthy of being a Jedi Knight. She looked up to her master the way she supposed she might’ve looked up to her birth father, had she been allowed to grow up with him. But that wasn’t to say there wasn’t a side to their relationship that didn’t still frustrate her to the core at times.

Absently, she wondered if Anakin and his Padawan had Bonded, and what the younger girl _thought_ of that Bond—if she knew of its existence at all. Shaking the thought out of her head as quickly as it’d arrived, she settled for smiling once more and took note of the look Ahsoka was giving her. “Is something wrong?”

“I was going to ask _you_ that.” Iza wasn’t sure if she liked the look of the grin spreading across Ahsoka’s lips. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Eh? Well, I suppose so,”

“What’s with you and Catcher?” The question was meant to be innocent— _probably_ —but it sounded almost accusatory even though the gleeful sparkle had never left the Padawan’s eyes. “Are you two…?”

“ _No_.” Even Iza was taken aback by how firm her tone was. It was almost as if Mace Windu himself had temporarily taken possession of her in order to convey the message. Realizing that she may have startled the Padawan, she eased back and tried again, “No, we’re just friends. _Comrades_. You should know better by now, Ahsoka. Attachments are--”

“Forbidden, I know.” Nodding as though she’d heard the same speech a thousand times, the girl made a face and gave an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry, Master Tacor. I shouldn’t have pried.”

“You’re not the first to have asked me today, Ahsoka. I assure you, it’s quite all right.” _Great_. Was this how it would be when she met up with _everyone_? Was she going to have to insist to Master Kenobi that there was no funny business going on between her and Catcher? Things looked bad enough with the Clone’s behavior, and now _this_.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin’s voice chimed from somewhere behind her and Iza took that as her cue to bow out, barely saying a _goodbye_ to the girl.

She didn’t stick around to listen to whether Anakin was going to scold his Padawan, or to confirm whether the younger Jedi had heard anything at all. Her feet were moving without any real thought as to where they were taking her and as long as she could avoid anyone who wasn’t a droid, she’d be fine.

~*~*~*~

Really, she should’ve just stayed in her chamber.

“Jedi Iza, a word.”

She should’ve known that sitting up here near the windows was a bad idea. It was so out in the open that someone was bound to eventually come across her, but Iza had been so mesmerized by the sight outside of the meter-thick glass that she hadn’t been able to help herself.

Deciding that she was much too tired from wandering around to bother trying to walk off and blatantly ignore Master Kenobi, she turned slowly and fixed him with an almost defeated sort of look. “Are you here to question me, too?”

He looked momentarily surprised, then confused. “Is there something I should be questioning you about?”

 _Stars_. She was going to have to lie and she was going to have to make damn sure he couldn’t read it in their Bond, assuming he was freely accessing it at his leisure. She’d honestly stopped checking. Shaking her head, she straightened her back a little and tucked her hands behind her back. “No, sir,”

Either he was just in a hurry to speak to her about what was on his mind, or he _really_ had no intention of pressing the matter any further because he only gave a nod of acceptance and stepped up beside her in front of the window. “I realize that the situation I have put us both in may not be, er, _ideal_. For either of us. But I need you to understand something about this Bond,”

Already Iza was fighting the urge to just shut her eyes and shut him out entirely. But she’d been doing that for the last few days and she _supposed_ she could at least hear him out. Maybe.

“I know what you’re planning to ask of Master Windu when we return to Coruscant,” _because of course he did_. “And I don’t want you to be… _upset_ when he tells you the same thing I’m about to tell you.”

“And what would that be?” Crossing her arms over her chest, Iza stared up at Master Kenobi, eyes narrowing slightly as she waited for an answer.

“Our Bond cannot be broken as easily as you may hope. It’s… possible, but it requires great sacrifice and I’m quite sure that neither of us—”

“What sort of sacrifice?”

Again, he looked surprised when she spoke so suddenly, but was prepared to answer without hesitating at all. “A change of heart. Turning away from the Order.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Death, is another.”

“What do you mean by _a change of heart_?” No, she didn’t want to discuss the other two options.

“I…” he looked as though he were searching for a way to explain, turning his eyes away from her to look out of the enormous window for a few moments. “If you came to despise me, I suppose. Or if I truly regretted preserving your life.”

Iza’s response was a short, bitter laugh. “So, you’re saying that this is _forever_? I will have you linked to my being until one of us dies or turns away from the Order?”

“I’m afraid so,”

“ _Great_.”

“Iza,” turning to her, Obi-Wan frowned slightly and narrowed his eyes. “I hope you realize this is as much of an inconvenience to _me_ as it is to _you_. You are _not_ the only one in the situation who is less than pleased with the consequences of my actions.”

“Then why don’t you sit and meditate on how _regretful_ you are about saving me and get us both out of this mess?!”

“Because I _don’t_ regret it, Iza!” Perhaps he shouldn’t have taken hold of her upper arms the way that he did, but Obi-Wan was out of ideas on how to get the girl to open up her ears and really _listen_ to him. “Do you not understand that I **_had_** a choice? I could have left you where I found you with your comrade and just taken the living Clones. But seeing this—” he reached up and took hold of the loose tuft of hair behind Iza’s ear. “—it would have been such a _waste_ not to try.”

The younger Jedi had been stunned into silence, and she wondered if he could feel the way she’d started shaking after he’d seized her. It had taken a lot of restraint not to immediately wrench out of his grasp, and she had a horrible feeling she may not have been able to. He was older and stronger and bigger than she was, but Obi-Wan hadn’t tried to hurt her. In fact, he’d started loosening up his grip already and was even easing back a step, looking as though he was attempting to gather himself back into that default neutral state he was known for.

“I’m sorry,” letting go of her completely, he took a moment to straighten himself before turning back to the window. “That was uncalled for.”

Iza didn’t know what to say. He was right; he really shouldn’t have taken hold of her that way. But it had been pretty effective in getting her to _actually_ listen to him. After a long moment of silence, she finally gave a shake of her head and pressed her lips together firmly. “Master Kenobi, I’m the one who owes _you_ an apology. I must sound so ungrateful for what you’ve done for me, sir.” Lowering her head in a deep bow, Iza kept her pose for longer than necessary. “Please forgive me.”

“There’s no need for any of that,” Obi-Wan set a hand on her shoulder to get her to return to her normal posture. The two locked eyes for a minute or two—it was hard to say—and Iza felt a sense of calming warmth wash over her. Noting that both of their chests seemed to rise and fall almost in unison when she’d inhaled, Obi-Wan appeared to feel the same pulse of surprise at the exact time she did upon realizing how in sync they were.

The moment Iza pulled her eyes away, the sensation was gone and they both went back to their own careful breathing patterns.

Keeping her eyes on the floor so she wouldn’t risk something like _that_ happening again, Iza licked her lips and swallowed, “What was _that?_ ”

“I think the two of us need a little time to get used to one another, Iza. We’re going to have to find a way to work around this Bond whether we like it or not.”

“The Bond I share with Master Windu is not this _disruptive_ , Master Kenobi.” Running a hand through her hair, the younger Jedi took a few steps back in order to put some space in between them. She was willing to keep from running off this time around, but all of this was still _very_ unnerving.

“You and your Master have spent years together, Iza. You’ve built natural walls around yourselves. We’re going to have to do the same, only we’re going to have to expedite the process.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Exactly what your Master had in mind in the first place. You’ll stay under my supervision unless you’re needed elsewhere.”

Cautiously looking back at him she was careful not to fully meet his gaze, “You’re going to drag me onto the battlefield in order to fix this?”

“Iza, there is no other way.”

No, there wasn’t, was there? She couldn’t be so foolish to expect Master Obi-Wan to simply drop his responsibilities over this. She would just have to suck it up and follow wherever he happened to go until they made this work for them. It would almost be like being a Padawan again, something she hadn’t exactly _missed_. Trying not to look frustrated by this, she shut her eyes and waved a hand in defeat. “Fine. But on one condition.”

She could almost _feel_ him raising an eyebrow at her. “Yes?”

Oh boy, she was risking a lot here. It was bound to look extremely suspicious to _everyone_ if she made this request, but maybe— _just maybe_ —she could convince Master Windu to reassure Master Kenobi that Catcher had been nothing more than a _companion_ to her since the two had met. While she knew her Master had his own reservations at times, he’d never questioned her when she requested the Clone’s presence for a trip.

“ _Yes_.” Obi-Wan’s repetition of the word was more of an answer this time around than a press for her to speak and before Iza could even speak, he continued, “If that’s what it will take for you to agree, you may bring Catcher. I will speak with Commander Cody about adding him to the official roster, but I will only say this _once_ , Iza,” he waited until she’d at least opened her eyes again before he went on, “If I hear _one_ word about anything… _funny_ like what I’ve heard recently, I will send you both back to Coruscant to face the Council, is that understood?”

“Understood.” She hoped he could feel the way she was seething under that neutral mask of hers. She hoped he’d feel it and be ashamed of himself for believing the rumors and whisperings of those who _thought_ they knew what was going on. But she wouldn’t fight him—not verbally.

“Good,” nodding once, he gave a wave of his hand. “You’re free to go.”

“I’d like to stay, sir. You may leave, if you wish.” She had to fight not to laugh at the look of surprise that followed her words, and simply turned to continue looking out of the window.

“Very well,” Obi-Wan sounded as though he was trying to hide how flustered he was by her dismissal of him. “I shall see you later, Jedi Iza.”

And then he was gone again, leaving Iza in peace once more.


	5. Broken Pieces

“You’re going to get us _both_ in trouble!” Iza hissed loudly as Catcher half dragged her along behind him through the barracks. They weren’t supposed to be here— _she_ wasn’t supposed to be here—and if they got caught, Master Kenobi was going to make good on his threat and toss them both out.

“Live a little, Iza.” The Clone grinned back at her over his shoulder, letting out one of his hearty laughs before pulling her behind a stack of crates. He gave her about a half a minute to catch her breath before he palmed her scarred cheek and let the pad of his thumb graze the jagged line etched just beneath her eye. “You might enjoy it.”

“We shouldn’t,” but Iza was already trailing her fingertips down the back of his hand, looking up at him with a mixture of excitement and anxiousness in her eyes. Letting out a soft, giggling hum when warm lips pressed to her forehead, the brunette reached her free hand up and tentatively slipped her fingers into his short, thick hair. “Catcher,”

“Yes, Little Bit?” Turning her face in his hand, he continued pressing kisses to her skin, lingering near her chin and resting his forehead to hers as he opened his eyes to level their gazes.

Iza almost _hated_ that she couldn’t control her breathing over a couple of sweet little kisses, and she hated even more that she knew her cheeks were turning scarlet and that she couldn’t turn away from him. Instead, she tilted her head just so and allowed herself a quick brush of her lips over his, unsurprised when Catcher took it for the invitation that it was and pressed forward to properly kiss her.

 _Stars above_ , he made her so dizzy with his kisses. It almost made it feel like it might be worth being banished from the Order if it meant she could kiss him without having to do it in secret. She couldn’t understand for the life of her _why_ this was forbidden. She had some vague idea, but how could something that brought such joy to one’s heart be forbidden to a Jedi? Somewhere in the back of her head, an old lesson about the Dark Side and Emotions and something else she couldn’t remember played back like an old data cartridge, but Iza quickly lost interest.

“We can’t be gone long, you know,” she said finally, almost wishing she hadn’t broken away from him. “They’ll send Ahsoka to look for us.”

“And when they find us, we’ll tell them we were getting the rations for today.” Pointing a thumb behind him at the crates, Catcher grinned and dipped his head, frowning when Iza put her hand up to stop him. “What? I thought it was a good plan?”

But Iza was too busy staring over the shoulder of the Clone, and directly into the eyes of Master Obi-Wan, who looked _extremely_ displeased by the sight in front of him.

~*~

Iza hadn’t woken from a dream so suddenly her whole life. Even nightmares had a tendency to drag on and torment her before allowing her to finally wake up. But this had sent her flying upright in her bunk, hollering some nonsense curse word at the top of her lungs, and frantically scrabbling around in the dark because she didn’t immediately recognize where the hell she was. Her gut churned slowly as she breathed harshly through her nose, blindly seeking out the panel on the wall that would turn the lights on in the room. Before her fingers could touch it, however, the door to her room slid open and the auto-lights flicked on, making her groan and cover her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Master Kenobi sounded tired, and grumpily alert. “Iza?”

“I’m fine,” her throat was drier than a Tatooine desert and she wouldn’t look at him as she felt around for the canteen of water she kept nearby. “Bad dream. I’m fine.”

But Obi-Wan didn’t seem satisfied by that answer and it showed when he stayed in place even while Iza guzzled down her water and tried to ignore his presence in her room.

“Master, _honestly_ —”

“Is there anything I ought to know, Iza?” Obi-Wan’s tone had changed slightly and the brunette jerked her head up instantly to look at him.

“What?” What the hell was he talking about?

“You want to speak of _honesty_ , and yet you can’t look me in the eye when I’ve asked you a question. So, I’ll ask again,” stepping further into the room, Obi-Wan made sure that Iza was at least looking at his face before continuing, “Is there anything I need to know about?”

 _Oh, Force_. He hadn’t come running because he’d heard her yelling. He’d come running because he’d _seen_ her damned dream. But didn’t he understand that that was all it was? Did he _really_ think she had been somehow been carrying out some sort of affair with Catcher for the last few weeks while traveling with him?

“Get out of my room, Master Kenobi,” screwing the lid back onto the canteen, Iza dropped it back onto the floor and attempted to settle down on her cot again.

“ _Iza._ ”

“You of _all_ people would know best that there’s _nothing_ I am hiding, Obi-Wan!” Sitting up so quickly she nearly bashed her head against the bunk ceiling, Iza looked to see if there was something she might be able to toss at him that wouldn’t hurt if it hit him. As if it would _actually_ hit him, anyway. “Dreams are _dreams_ , nothing more.”

She wanted him to be satisfied by that answer, though she knew he wouldn’t be. Dreams were dreams for most people, but the Jedi had to be wary of prophecies in disguise. Iza didn’t think a simple, innocent fantasy of letting Catcher steal her away to act upon a _natural_ urge held any sort of prophetic importance.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d _stay out_ of mine from now on,” she added, casting a quick glance up to his face.

Now Obi-Wan looked offended. Letting out a scoffing laugh, he smiled in a way that made her uneasy and put a hand up. “Now wait just a damn minute,” since when did he swear? “ _You_ reached for _me_. I had no intention of intruding on whatever it was you pulled me into. I assure you, that was the last thing I wanted to witness—but **you** called for me, **you** reached out for me, and you felt _distressed_. I don’t know what you expected me to do, Iza.”

The Bond. The _kriffing_ Bond.

“I don’t understand… _how_ …” Working her jaw as she twisted the blanket between her fingers, Iza felt her face growing hot and just stared at the older man.

“Neither do I.” he said flatly.

“Get out,” Iza whispered, turning away to settle back down on the cot. “Leave.”

“As you wish.”

She heard the door open again then slide shut a moment after, and waited until she thought he had gotten far enough away before throwing the blanket off and rolling out of bed. There was no way she was going to be able to sleep after that.

Maybe food would help.

~*~*~*~

Maybe food would _not_ help.

Why was it that whenever she wandered in here, it seemed as though Catcher and his little group _always_ had to be here too? If it weren’t for the fact that she was actually hungry enough to eat the after-hours rations, she might’ve just turned back and gone elsewhere. There was a really big part of her that hoped he wouldn’t spot her right away, and she seemed to be in luck as she crossed the central space of the room and managed to get herself one of the packets without being noticed. But she could almost feel him walking up behind her and had to quickly release her mind of the dream she’d had when he leaned over her and grabbed a different bag.

“Try this one instead,” he offered, swapping the packets. “It might suit your tastebuds better, Little Bit.”

 _Stars_ , he was warm without that chest-plate on. Come to think of it, Iza wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him without almost a full set of Trooper armor on at all times. Maybe once when he’d been injured, but never so casually like this. Taking a second to discreetly pinch herself, she realized she had _not_ fallen back asleep and he was indeed standing behind her almost a little too close.

“Thank you,” she said finally, turning to smile at him and move away before she got too damn comfortable.

“Where you off to so fast?” he teased, giving her a look. “Can’t spare a minute for me?”

Iza’s nails bit into the ration packet and she suddenly wondered if Master Obi-Wan had been right to be concerned about her dream. Catcher was always friendly, always a bit _flirty_ with her, but after dreaming what she’d dreamt how was she supposed to just roll with it the same way without questioning it a little?

“I’m sorry,” rubbing her hand over her face, she laughed and put on her best _I’m fine_ expression. “I suppose I’m still a bit sleepy.”

“Nightmare?”

“Er—not really.” Her cheeks went pink and she caught the sly grin on Catcher’s lips before she cleared her throat and started thumbing the edge of the packet in her hand.

“Oh, _I see_ ,” chuckling lowly, he moved like he was going to walk past her, leaning in a little and lowering his voice. “I hope you had fun, Little Bit.”

The packet in her hands let out a loud _pop_ when Iza squeezed it involuntarily, the contents dropping out and scattering around her feet. Her mouth moved soundlessly as she tried to form some sort of retort, face positively _burning_ with embarrassment. It was all she could do not to turn tail and run out of the Mess, but she knew that it would only attract more attention. Deciding it best not to acknowledge that comment _at all_ , she knelt to start picking up the fallen nutritional squares, fully aware of how hard her hands were shaking.

The shadow still pooling beside hers let her know that Catcher hadn’t bothered to leave yet, but she really wished he would. But no, he just _had_ to kneel beside her and help, didn’t he? Iza thought she was going to pass out from the blood rushing to her head, and it only became worse when Catcher’s fingers brushed over hers as they reached for the same fallen square.

“Little Bit?” his breath was warm on the side of her neck and it made her shiver.

“I’m sorry,” dropping everything she’d picked up, Iza stumbled over her own two feet in her haste to get away from him. Unfortunately, it seemed that he wasn’t going to let her go that easy. They called him _Catcher_ for a reason, and it just so happened to be because he was quite quick on his feet.

She should’ve done more than gasp when he caught her by the arm in the corridor near her chamber. And she _really_ should have protested when he backed her up against the wall, giving her no means of escape. But there was no threat in his dark eyes, only an intense curiosity and maybe a little bit of concern.

“Iza?” he was too close. _Way_ too close. It seemed that he just kept getting closer with every passing nanosecond, too. Funny how she’d never noticed the soft hint of caf he carried in his scent, or that his brown eyes had just the _slightest_ hint of a hazel hue in the right lighting. He’d lifted a hand, seemingly deciding that touching her face was the best form of action at the moment, but before his calloused fingers could brush over her skin, Iza turned her head and shut her eyes tight.

“Please, don’t,” she hated that there was such a distinct tremor in her voice; hated that she had to reject his affectionate gesture. “Catcher, don’t touch me.”

“Iza,” he sounded genuinely concerned now, but obeyed her request regardless. He even took a few steps back to give her room, having taken notice of how tense she’d become. “Talk to me, Little Bit.”

“I _can’t_ ,” that tremor was getting worse now, and she could feel her chest tightening. This was so messed up. No amount of meditation and mind-training was enough to shut out natural human instinct and it just wasn’t _fair_. “Catch… _please_ …”

“Have I done something? _Said_ something?”

“No,”

“Then why are you turning away from me?”

Iza just shook her head, lips pressed together tight as she fought the urge to curl into herself. If he would just step back a little more and take away the rest of his damned body heat, maybe she’d be able to concentrate and collect herself.

“Was it me?”

And just like that, he had her attention again. Their eyes met and she found him with his brows knit together and his head tilted like a curious animal. She could lie—she _should_ lie. She should just tell him it was one of the others aboard the ship, or maybe tell him it was Master Kenobi. That would deflate the situation entirely for both of them. But she found she couldn’t do that, even if she tried. So, instead, she slowly started to nod, jaw wobbling lightly as her features screwed.

“ _Yes_.”

“Oh, Little Bit…” his shoulders sagged and he gave her a look that said he was the sorriest man in the entire galaxy. He also looked like he wanted nothing more than to take hold of her again and maybe put her out of this miserable state of mind, but he knew he couldn’t. She’d asked him not to— _and_ there was the little matter of the fact that they were very much out in the open. “I’m so sorry.”

Iza found that _sorry_ wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear, and she didn’t want to see his face fall so hard. He shouldn’t have to share her anguish over the situation. She knew that he stood to lose just as much if either of them were to fully admit to any of the feelings boiling inside of them; Clones were not allowed relationships any more than Jedi were. Nothing outside of a platonic kinship, anyhow. He’d been made for a single purpose, and despite his ability to form independent thoughts and decisions, he was _still_ a Clone. Still just a killing machine born and bred for war. There could be no ties between them off the battlefield outside of that sweet friendship that was slowly starting to crumble into something deeper.

“I’ll ask to be transferred back,” his voice pulled her out of her thoughts and Iza felt like she’d been slapped. “You shouldn’t be burdened with this.”

“ _Absolutely **not**_.” The tears that had never had a chance to fall were ice cold as Iza’s rapidly fluttering eyelashes flicked them over her cheeks. “The only reason I’m here is because of you. You’re not leaving me now, Catcher.”

“It would be better for the both of us if we had some time apart, Iza.” He’d backed up another pace, finally taking away that last lingering layer of warmth with him.

“You don’t mean that,”

Catcher seemed to chew at his tongue for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. “You don’t understand. I don’t _want_ to, but I’ve been warned twice already. I won’t get a third chance.” Hesitating before he reached out and gingerly took her hand, the Clone brought it to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles. “I’m truly sorry, Little Bit.”

And then he let go and turned on his heel, walking away and leaving her standing alone in the corridor.

“Catcher?” Iza’s voice was weak when she called out to him, getting no response in return. Swallowing the thick lump rising in her throat, she tried again, “ _Catcher?_ ”

No answer. He’d actually left. He was going to keep to his word and he was going to leave her behind. Sucking in a shuddering breath, the young Jedi pushed away from the wall and started to follow where she was sure he’d gone. The lights all began to blur into one massive blob as new tears bubbled forth, streaking down her cheeks as a sick panic filled her chest. What if she couldn’t find him? What if he’d somehow managed to leave _already_?

“ _CATCHER?!_ ” Picking up the pace until she broke out into a full run, the brunette’s footsteps pounded against the hard floor of the ship until she rounded a corner and caught sight of a Clone— _her_ Clone—looking around, confused. He spotted her and there was a mixture of emotion on his face that she couldn’t be bothered to read as she rushed him.

Her chest hit his harder than she meant for it to, arms wrapping tight around him as she buried her face into his shoulder and let out a desperate sounding sob. There was no hesitation this time as Catcher’s arms came up, one hand cradling the back of her head as his other arm held her to him almost possessively. He was breathing harshly into her ear, whispering her name in between a string of swear words as he hugged her tight enough to lift her up onto her toes.

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded, her voice muffled by the under tunic he wore. “Please don’t leave me, Catcher.”

“I don’t want to,” his voice was thick with regret, fingers tightening in her hair enough to pull. “ _Stars_ , Iza, you have to know this is the last thing I want to do.”

“ _Stay_ ,” she sounded like a youngling, begging and pleading so pathetically. “Please stay with me.”

Catcher didn’t respond right away, his breathing coming in great heaves of his chest as he stood squeezing her to him. Then he was pulling back and the hand in her hair slid to nudge her head up enough for him to quietly fit his lips against hers. The kiss was just as dizzying as the ones in her dream had been, but it also made her chest ache. She could taste his apology on his lips, felt the absolute shame he held in his soul when he broke away and kissed the spot between her eyes before pulling away entirely and left her cold once more.

She couldn’t chase him anymore. Iza had to let him go. It was what was best for both of them, she told herself. But as she stood there with her eyes closed, trying to hold on to the feeling of his closeness for as long as she could, she listened to his footsteps fading and the soft _woosh_ of a door open and close.

He was gone.

Willing herself to open her eyes, Iza found she couldn’t move. She didn’t _want_ to move. If she moved from this spot, the world around her would crumble. That sick tightness in her chest had returned and was spreading through to the rest of her body, leaving her feeling weak and nauseous. The metal floor of the corridor was highly unforgiving when her knees hit it, but Iza could barely feel it. She thought she was going to throw up; her stomach rolled hard but nothing came up. Nothing but a sob and a whimper of Catcher’s name, anyway.

She could still taste him on her lips and wished that she’d never said anything to him. She should never have gone to the Mess Hall, never should have let herself be so honest with him. Maybe she would have spared herself this kind of unbearable pain.

“Iza,”

 _No_. No, not now. She couldn’t stand to see Obi-Wan _now_.

“ _Iza_ ,” his voice was soft and full of concern and somehow, she just knew he knew. She still didn’t budge, even when he crouched beside her and gently took hold of her shoulders, urging her to stand. “Come now, my dear,” there was no trace of an impending scolding nor did he appear to be anything but sympathetic when she finally raised her weary eyes to meet his. “Let’s get you out of the hallway.”

There was no use in fighting him as Obi-Wan pulled Iza to her feet, and she slumped into him with a soft whine when he steered her back towards where the sleeping quarters were. She didn’t care if she was about to be reprimanded for what she’d just done. She didn’t care if Obi-Wan had felt every last emotion she’d been broadcasting over their Bond. She hoped he could feel how _broken_ she was in this moment and how sick losing Catcher’s presence was going to make her.

She knew for sure he’d felt it when an invasive sort of warmth reached out to her and made an attempt to wrap itself around where everything hurt the most. Wrenching away from him, she shot him a wild look and pulled her mental shields up as quickly as she could, staring him down _hard_.

“I mean no harm,” he said soothingly, blue eyes leveling with hers. “I just want to help you cope.”

“I don’t need your _kriffing_ help.”

“You’re losing control on yourself, Iza. Let me help.”

“ _Let me feel my pain freely_ ,” she challenged, clenching her teeth hard enough to audibly grind them. “I deserve that much, _Master_.”

Neither of the two seemed to want to budge, staring each other down unblinking in the middle of the corridor as though nothing else around them existed. In their mind’s eyes, nothing else did. It was the two of them and a sea of blackness and nothing more.

Iza could feel Obi-Wan’s frustration as clearly as he could feel her anger and heartache, but both were too damn stubborn to back down. It wasn’t until the older Jedi’s shoulders slacked and the blackness began to fade into gray, eventually brightening back to their normal surroundings that Iza knew he’d conceded.

“Very well,” he gave a short nod of resignation. “Feel your pain, Iza. Just take care not to let it consume you.”

Lifting her chin in an almost arrogant manner, the brunette would have given some terse reply had Obi-Wan not continued.

“If you should find yourself struggling, feel free to reach out. I will leave you to your grief.” Another nod and he was walking away, heading back to his chamber, no doubt.

Iza would have liked to believe that she was _free to feel her pain_ now, but she’d already sensed the presence of another just down the next hallway. She wouldn’t address them, nor would she make any attempt to approach; the sound of footsteps told her they’d already started heading her way anyhow.

“Hey,” Anakin’s usually playful tone was painfully sober as he came to stand beside her, leaning up against the wall. “Wanna talk about it?”

One look at his face and Iza had an _odd_ feeling that this boy was probably the only person aboard the entire vessel who could truly provide sympathy for her situation. It was hard to explain, but there was something written in his expression that made her mind wander over how that could possibly be. Deciding that she didn’t want to return to her personal chamber just yet—being alone with her thoughts just sounded so unbearable right now—Iza gave a tiny nod of her head.

“Yeah,” her voice was puny and tight, and she shrank into herself as she swallowed the lump when it returned to her throat. “I think I do.”


	6. Powerless

“How’s Iza doing, Master?” Anakin asked weeks later as he and Obi-Wan walked through the busy streets of the planet where they’d stopped at to re-up on supplies. It was one of the few times they had little to do, and both Jedi had wanted to stretch their legs and maybe get a drink at one of the local bars.

Shooting a tired look at Anakin, Obi-Wan had to fight back the urge he had to scoff. “Terribly. Granting her allowance for grief has not only taken its toll on her, but on _me_ as well.”

“I can see that.” The younger of the two flashed a cheeky sort of grin and then sobered quickly. “Have you tried approaching her yet?”

“Several times, but she always locks me out. I can get past her barriers if I truly try hard enough, but I fear I’d cause more distrust in her than I already have.”

“You know,” pausing to tap the panel to open a door leading into a bar, Anakin shot the other man a look. “I bet Commander Cody could be persuaded to bring Catcher back onto the roster if we asked nice enough.”

“ _Anakin_ ,” Obi-Wan’s tone changed to one of warning as he took a seat at the bar beside his former Padawan. “That would do more harm than good and we both know it.”

“Oh, come on,”

“Iza will be all right in time,” even as he said it, Obi-Wan didn’t sound entirely sure of that. “The situation is not permanent, after all. It’s just a cooling off period for the two of them.”

“You make it sound as though their feelings for each other will change just because they’re not sharing the same living space.” Snorting, Anakin ordered his drink and shook his head. “I don’t think it’s going to work that way, Obi-Wan.”

“And just what do you think you _do_ know?”

The young Jedi pondered on this for a moment, clucked his tongue, and then sat up straighter on his stool. “I think you know better than I, Master, where her head and heart currently stand. You’ve told me there hasn’t been a change since that night and it’s been… two— _three_ weeks? That’s an awful long time for a Jedi to grieve, sir.”

Beside him, Obi-Wan made a face as though he hadn’t put that into consideration _at all_. He’d been so busy with assignments and keeping his mind as clear as he could while still enduring the overflow of heartache Iza had allowed to leak into their Bond that he’d given no thought as to how long all of this had dragged out. Any self-respecting Jedi would have pulled themselves together long before now, so unless Iza was broadcasting false emotions to somehow punish him, Anakin _might_ have a point.

“I suppose you’re right,” why did he hate the way that sounded? It wasn’t as if it was a _bad_ thing if Anakin was right about something. Perhaps this just wasn’t the correct topic for him to be right about. “What do you propose we do about it?”

“We? Since when is this a _we_ problem?”

“Since _you_ decided to stick your nose in it.” Giving the younger Jedi a hard look, Obi-Wan took a sip of his drink and peered into the glass. It was watered down; how unfortunate.

“I’ve already told you what I think should be done about it and you shot that idea down.”

“Because that’s _not_ a good plan, Anakin,” rubbing a hand over his face, Obi-Wan sighed heavily and grumbled into his palm before giving a frustrated tug to the end of his beard. “The situation is too delicate to just bring Catcher back. Besides, I’m not entirely sure _where_ Commander Cody sent him off to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the man asked to be reassigned and specifically asked that his location be kept mum.”

“He’s from Master Windu’s battalion, isn’t he? Can’t we just ask—”

Turning on his stool, Obi-Wan fixed the younger man with a hard stare and a raised brow. “Do you _really_ think that’s a good idea? Asking Master Windu for assistance in bringing back his protégé’s…” what word did he want to use? “… _inamorato?_ ”

“Put her on an assignment, then. And tell Master Windu she’ll need a bodyguard and that you know she won’t put her trust in anyone _but_ Catcher.” Taking a long drink from his glass, Anakin shrugged a shoulder carelessly.

“She isn’t a Council member, Anakin,” giving his fellow Jedi an odd look, Obi-Wan shook his head and finished his drink in the next swallow, tossing a handful of credits onto the bar’s countertop. “She doesn’t need extra protection from anything.”

“Perhaps _you_ should try coming up with something, then. You’re the one who’ll have to continue suffering alongside her, Master.” Emptying his glass, Anakin slid from his stool and paid for his drink, shaking his head as he turned to leave the bar.

Obi-Wan was at his heels, silent and contemplative as ever. Soon, they were walking side by side again, but neither of them spoke as they weaved through the foot-traffic and occasionally apologized for bumping shoulders with someone.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan seemed to stop dead in his tracks, looking to be on high alert as he glanced around at the surrounding crowd with a deep frown on his face.

“Master Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s voice was distant, curious.

“Iza’s here,” _odd_ , she’d barely even left her chambers to eat. Ahsoka had been bringing her meals to her, last he’d checked.

“She is?” the taller man quickly scanned the crowd, frowning. “Where?”

“I’m not sure,” oh, he was sure. It was like a strange tugging in his gut that pinpointed him to her location. “Go back to the ship. Ask Ahsoka if Iza said anything about leaving and get in touch with me if she gives you any information.”

“What are you going to do?” Anakin knew he didn’t _need_ to ask, but he was going to anyway.

“Figure out what she’s doing, of course.”

~*~*~*~

Iza kept her head down beneath the hood of her cloak as she weaved between pedestrians, careful to avoid any physical contact with any of them. She didn’t want to touch _anyone_ and she never wanted another soul to touch her again. Of course, she knew she was being tracked. She’d expected it as soon as she’d stepped off the ship. But whether or not Obi-Wan knew where she was going and what she was up to was of no real concern to her. She simply wanted to stretch her legs and maybe get a little bit of fresh air. Well, as fresh as this area of the city would allow for.

Spotting a street market just up ahead, the brunette turned the corner and slowed to a more leisurely stroll. It wasn’t nearly as crowded here, and the neon lights above the various food stalls and booths advertising cheap goods were almost alluring. She’d barely noticed when the older Jedi had caught up to her.

“You’ve come out of hiding,” he said quietly, careful to keep some distance between them.

Lowering her hood, Iza looked up at a sign displaying the prices for crawlfish skewers and stepped into the line to order one. Maybe she’d get a bottle of that Sweet Milk, too.

“Iza,”

“I have nothing to say to you, Master Kenobi.” She said flatly, slipping a hand into her pocket to blindly count out the credits before she needed to place her order.

“Iza, you know this isn’t my fault.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Casting a smile at the vendor droid inside of the booth, she ordered one of the larger skewers and the bottle of Sweet Milk, handing over the credits when prompted to. Waiting patiently while the food was fixed, she straightened the panels of her cloak and dared a glance at Obi-Wan from the corner of her eye.

“Do you really think _that’s_ a good idea?” Gesturing to the bottle that had been set out for her to take, the elder of the two was a little surprised when she laughed.

“As if you’ve got room to talk? I can smell whatever it was _you_ had from here.” Taking her food and the bottle with a nod of thanks at the droid, Iza stepped away from the booth and stepped further down the alley, taking a bite of the skewer. “I do believe this is our leisure time, is it not?”

“For now,” he answered, following slowly behind.

“Then why are you still here?” Parking herself on a flat concrete protrusion that acted as a bench, Iza took another bite and leaned back against the side of the building it stuck out of. “Don’t I suffer enough of your presence on the ship?”

Squinting lightly at her, Obi-Wan rubbed lightly at his chin before coming closer to sit on the end of the bench, not surprised when she scooted to the farthest point away from him. Whatever this little game was she had going, it was quite irritating. “Have I done something to offend you?”

“No,” biting into the flesh of the crawlfish skewer, Iza seemed to have given up on manners as she let the juice drip down her chin and onto her robes.

“May I ask what it is I have done to deserve this sort of attitude, then?”

Taking a moment to unscrew the lid from her bottle of Sweet Milk, Iza shrugged and brought it to her lips. “You may.” The smile that followed was humorless and bitter. “But you’re not getting an answer.”

What in the name of the Force had gotten into this girl? Had Catcher’s departure really had that much of a profound effect on her? Searching along the fragments of the Bond she’d seemingly allowed to remain open to him, he could see that indeed—it had. He wouldn’t say she was in serious danger quite yet, but the young Jedi had definitely not taken his advice. She’d allowed her grief to consume her, and it was likely that there’d been damage done that he couldn’t yet see from this surface view. If she’d only open up to him _willingly_ , then he could get a better look at what he might have to work with when it came to helping her recover herself fully.

“I can feel that,” taking another sloppy bite of her skewer, Iza used the back of her hand to catch the drips this time, absently wiping them off on her cloak. “You’re _nosey_ , Master Obi-Wan.”

“Jedi Iza, I would appreciate it if you’d stop shutting me out for five minutes and let me take a thorough look at you.”

“No.”

“You realize I can force my way in, don’t you?”

She laughed, sipping her drink and eyeing him over the bottle. “If you were going to bully your way in, you’d have done so about, hmm… more than a week ago, _sir_.”

“ _Enough_ ,” getting to his feet, Obi-Wan strode closer, more than a little surprised when Iza waved her fingers and brought a waste-bin scraping across the center of the alley to park right in his path and stop him in his tracks. He nearly gaped at her while she polished off both her food and drink before tossing them into said bin and getting to her feet.

“Don’t lose your temper, Master,” hooking her fingers into her hood, she pulled it up over her head once more and turned to start walking away. “It’s unbecoming of you.”

“ _Iza!_ ” He didn’t know whether to just let her go or continue stalking after her. He also didn’t know where this broiling upset in his chest was coming from. Surely he couldn’t _still_ be feeding off of her? The girl seemed a little on the irritated side, sure, but this felt like a grenade getting ready to pop. If that was the case, then she was in far more danger than he’d initially thought and he needed to remedy this— _fast_.

Tapping the communicator on his wrist, he watched as Iza’s cloaked form turned down another side alley before slowly beginning his pursuit again.

“Anakin, I need you to put me through to Commander Cody. Tell him it’s _important_.”

~*~*~*~

Oh, Iza knew she was probably going to catch quite a lot of hell from Master _Windu_ when he eventually learned of her behavior towards Obi-Wan, but there was a rather large part of her that had decided that it honestly didn’t care. She was still mad as hell that Catcher had been made to leave and while she wouldn’t fully come out and say it, she did blame a lot of it on Obi-Wan.

Catcher had mentioned that he’d been warned _twice_ about his actions and behaviors and she didn’t think neither Commander Cody nor Captain Rex had been the ones to reprimand him. Those two were pretty damned lenient about a lot of things and were willing to let a lot slip as long as it didn’t interfere with their men’s ability to perform their duties. No, she was pretty sure _someone else_ had put it into Catcher’s head that he’d be outed for his feelings if they were to be caught; the same someone who’d flat out _told_ her they’d bring them both to the Council if he found any of the ship gossip about them to be true.

And _he_ wanted to know what he’d done to offend her? _Stars_. All he really needed to do was reach across that Bond and _look_ , but he seemed too cowardly to do so. Iza could sit and claim it was because Obi-Wan had manners or whatever, but she saw it as a coward’s move to not truly dig deep and find the root of a problem, especially when you were the cause of it.

Or maybe that’s just what she wanted to believe, because that’s all she’d been telling herself since that night. She needed someone to put the blame on and Obi-Wan had been the closest target—and the easiest. Besides, she wanted to be rid of this stupid Bond before it ruined her completely, and the only other options were not really options for her at all. She needed to fuel a deep distrust and dislike for the man until the Bond weakened and eventually broke; if _only_ he’d stop reaching across it and repairing all of the damage she was doing.

Iza slowed in her steps as she turned down a slightly busier street and inhaled the familiar scent of caf from somewhere nearby. It made her heart hurt at first as it reminded her of Catcher. Thankfully, the breeze blew it away and decided to bombard her with the stench of something else instead, leaving her to shake herself out of her thoughts and carry on.

She didn’t know why she’d come down this way. It was all clothing shops and booths full of things she couldn’t buy. _Well_ , she **could** buy them if she truly wanted to, but Iza wasn’t really interested. There was no harm in _looking_ , she supposed, and maybe a little bit of quiet fantasizing about what one of those beautifully tailored dresses might look like on her form. She’d been wearing the shapeless, sand-colored robes for so long that she had no idea what her own body looked like anymore, and she was _almost_ envious of those who had chosen to don something other than robes identical to their Master’s. Fighting the temptation to reach out and run her fingers along the material of one of the dresses, she let out a sad sort of sigh and kept moving.

Vanity was not in her nature, even if she hadn’t become a Jedi. Iza barely had a care in the cosmos for whether her hair was brushed properly most of the time, though she’d found herself taking better care of it in recent years. She didn’t have much _time_ to be vain, really. There was never a long enough moment to pause in front of a mirror outside of the morning routine, and she was usually too tired to pay any attention to her reflection. She had stopped caring about the scar on her cheek, too. It had been a bit of a silent bother to her for the first few weeks until a certain someone reminded her of his own battle scar under his chin.

It made it easier to wash her face in the shower after that.

Iza was just about to start looking over another display of gorgeous looking clothes when she heard the comm on her wrist starting to beep. _Great_. She probably needed to answer that in case it was something important. Moving off to the side for privacy, she settled against the wall of a building and tapped a button to answer.

“Hello?”

“ _Iza_ ,” Obi-Wan’s voice was coming through with a bit of light static and she wondered why he hadn’t just continued to follow her. She was _pretty sure_ he’d been behind her the entire time.

“What, sir?”

“You need to return to the ship. We’re packing up and leaving immediately.”

Already pushing away from the wall, the brunette started to head back the way she’d come and frowned at the device on her wrist. “Why? What’s going on?”

“We’ve been called to provide assistance to—” the communicator’s signal weakened as she passed a large stall built entirely out of some sort of thick metal, but returned once she’d gotten far enough away from it, “Are you there?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” picking up the pace, Iza tried to pick a path with the least amount of people in the way. “There was interference. Where are we going?”

“Just get back to the ship and I will explain.”

“Right.” Turning the communicator off, the brunette broke out into a full run, giving up on avoiding bodily contact with anyone. She was careful not to completely mow anyone down, but threw several hasty apologies over her shoulder whenever she accidentally knocked into someone. The closer she got to the ship, the stronger she’d started to feel a sense of unease that wasn’t her own. Something was wrong; something was _very_ wrong.

Panting hard as she raced up the loading ramp, Iza followed that worried feeling all the way up to the main deck and into the cockpit where Obi-Wan stood with Anakin and Ahsoka at his side. He looked surprised to see her so soon, eyes following her movements as she unclasped her cloak from her throat and shrugged out of it.

“You got here fast,” Ahsoka looked just as surprised as the older Jedi. “You okay?”

“What’s wrong?” Iza’s eyes never left Obi-Wan’s and there was a hint of a demand in her tone that wouldn’t give him any room for skirting around. “Why did you call me back?”

“We have a bit of a situation,” he might’ve exchanged a glance with Anakin had he not been preoccupied with keeping his gaze level with the woman in front of him. It was taking everything in Obi-Wan’s power not to let a single ounce of anxiety slip through their Bond, lest she sense it more than she already had.

“What kind of situation?” _Boy_ , that Sweet Milk was catching up to her now, wasn’t it? Her head felt a little funny, but at least she was able to stay on her feet. When the other Jedi didn’t immediately say anything, Iza gestured at him. “ _Hello?_ Obi-Wan?”

“We put in a request to Commander Cody,” Anakin spoke up, breaking up the strange tension between the two.

“What for?”

“Right now, it doesn’t matter,” something in Anakin’s eyes told her they would talk about it later, but she had a bad feeling she already knew. “What does matter is that we found something out that needs to be taken care of _right now_ , and we need to know that you’re going to be okay going into this.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about!” Now she was looking between all three of them, although Ahsoka looked just as confused as she did. “ _For krifs sake_ , Skywalker, spit it out!”

A look was exchanged between Anakin and Obi-Wan and the younger of the two sighed. “The battalion unit Catcher was reassigned to disappeared a few days ago. There’s been no sign of the ship they were on and nobody can get a signal through. The last known whereabouts were somewhere near Gol.”

“…the asteroid _death trap_? They sent him out _there?_ ”

“Iza, please. Now is not the time,” Obi-Wan’s voice was stern, but his eyes had gone a bit soft as they watched her, almost like he was waiting for her to just collapse from the news.

“Why are we still sitting here? Why haven’t we left yet?” Running a hand down her face, Iza turned to start looking over the controls that made no sense to her. She couldn’t get this thing running even if she wanted to. Kicking one of the maintenance panels, she dragged her shaking fingers through her hair and _pulled_. “Why didn’t anybody _say_ anything?!”

“ _Stop_ ,” Iza hadn’t even heard Master Kenobi coming up behind her, and had no time to react when he took hold of the sides of her head firmly and locked their gazes. “Iza, _enough_.”

They both stood there, breathing heavily and staring each other down like they were waiting for the other to blink. Neither of them said a single word, but eventually Iza brought a hand up and pushed hard against Obi-Wan’s chest, moving him back a step and breaking his gaze from hers. Retreating to the other side of the room, Iza glared at him and snatched her cloak up from the spot she’d tossed it before storming out of the room.

The silence in the cockpit was deafening, but Obi-Wan didn’t seem to want to be the first to speak, even as he turned and began to slowly press a few buttons on the panel in front of him.

“What the hell was that?” Anakin half-demanded, pointing in the direction Iza had gone. “What did you just do to her?”

“Gave her the bad part of the news,” his tone unnaturally cold, Obi-Wan kept himself fixated on setting the coordinates. “She needs to know that we may not—”

“Are you out of your head?!?” Coming up beside his Master, Anakin stared down at him, absolutely baffled. “Are you _trying_ to get her to throw herself back into that room forever? What happened to giving her _hope_ , Obi-Wan?”

“You know as well as I do Anakin, there’s no sense in lying to her.”

“I didn’t lie to her.”

“Neither did I,”

“No,” backing up, Anakin gestured for Ahsoka to go on ahead of him. “What you did, was cruel. _Especially_ for you, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan stayed rooted to his spot as he listened to Anakin walk away, knowing full well his former apprentice was right to say such a thing. It was very cruel for him to have told Iza not to expect to find anything once they got where they were going, but it was better than letting her sit and suffer during the journey. Anakin could call it _hope_ all he wanted, but for the man who had to share a Bond with her and feel each twitching moment of anxiety and torment, it was much kinder to be _honest_.

~*~*~*~

“Are you all right, Iza?” Ahsoka asked as she sat beside the woman who was curled up against the wall a few corridors away from the cockpit. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” shaking her head, Iza pulled her knees to her chest. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“I beg to differ,” Anakin looked like someone’s concerned brother as he strolled up, robes billowing lightly behind him. He exchanged a look with Ahsoka and his features seemed to soften before he propped himself up on the opposite wall. “Why don’t you go get us some waters, Snips? Trip’s gonna be a little long.”

“Okay,” nodding, the Padawan got to her feet and made her way down towards the Mess Hall on the lower deck, leaving the two alone save for the occasional passing droid.

“I don’t know what Obi-Wan said to you,” the younger Jedi murmured quietly once he was sure they were alone _enough_. “But I spoke to Commander Cody himself. There’s no evidence that the ship was attacked. The Separatists don’t even use that route, which was why we were using it for transport. Iza,” crouching in front of her in the hopes that the woman would look his way, Anakin tilted his head and searched her features silently. “Catcher is still out there. I know you feel it.”

“I don’t know what I feel anymore, Anakin,” the next blink of her eyes had tears rolling down her cheeks and Iza scrubbed them off before they could stain the knees of her leggings. “I feel… _cold_. Everything feels _cold_ and _grey_. There’s no…” her fingers brushed over her lips like they were trying to keep her from saying the words sitting on the edge of her tongue. “It’s like there’s not enough _light_ anymore.”

Maybe Anakin should’ve been concerned about that statement, and he was sure that his Master most _definitely_ would have been. But he was not his Master, and he was not at all unfamiliar with what Iza was saying. Crossing the space between them, he took up Ahsoka’s vacant seat beside the older Jedi and leaned back to rest his head against the wall.

“The light will return,” he said in such a matter of fact way, like he had all the experience in the world. “It always does.” Looking over at her, he inhaled deeply and let it out in a sympathetic sigh. “Sometimes it takes a little while, but the light _always_ comes back.”


	7. Chasing Relentlessly

“All right men,” Rex growled from beneath his helmet as he addressed the Gunship full of Clones and the tag-along Jedi. “Once we land, we spread out and start a complete sweep for heat signatures. General Kenobi, you and your men can take the Speeders on your left and do the same further south.”

Iza was barely listening as she stared out of the slowly rising door of the Gunship, squinting against the blast of air that had her gripping the strap she held onto. She knew what the protocol was for something like this, but she’d never gone on her own rescue mission before. Bracing herself as the bird was set down, she was one of the first to start towards the vehicles, Anakin right on her heels. Over the roar of the other landing ships, she could hear Obi-Wan trying to tell her something as he shoved a datapad into her hands.

She only tucked it into the bag slung over her shoulder, nudging him out of the way to walk the Speeder off of the gunship and onto the rocky, desolate planet.

“Take these, Sir,” Captain Rex passed over a set of protective goggles that Iza quickly slipped onto her face.

“Thank you.” Her voice lacked any sort of emotion at all; in fact, any time Obi-Wan had reached along their Bond to check on her, he’d been hard pressed to find any kind of feeling other than numbness for a while now. Iza couldn’t be bothered to deal with her feelings at the moment, however, as she slung a leg over the seat of the Speeder and revved it to life.

“I’ll take the— _Iza!_ ” Obi-Wan called after the girl futilely when she rocketed off away from the group. Already, Anakin was hopping on his own Speeder to take after her, but Obi-Wan reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. “ _Wait_ ,”

“But Master,” gesturing to Iza’s disappearing form, the younger man gave an impatient look.

“I’m afraid she’s made her own plans, Anakin.” Frowning hard, Obi-Wan shook his head. “Unfortunately, I’m not quite sure what those plans _are_.”

~*~*~*~

Iza couldn’t get the damn Speeder to go fast enough as she zipped over the rough, almost black terrain of the planet. She’d snagged the datapad out of her bag and switched it on not long after leaving the group and kept glancing at it every now and then to check for any sign of a heat signature in her path. So far, there’d been a lot of dead things; dead trees, bones of dead animals, dead plants trying their hardest to resurrect themselves in the cracks of the spoiled soil. She had yet to see any sign that a ship had been in this area _at all_.

And then she saw it.

At first, she thought it was just a rock that happened to be a little more polished than the rest, but as she started seeing more and more bits and chunks of what she eventually realized was _metal_ , Iza knew she was on the right path. Of course, it made her stomach churn to see this sort of scattered wreckage spread out over such a large area. It was almost as if something had just _exploded_ without warning, leaving nothing but fragments behind like some sort of morbid confetti.

Looking to the datapad again, she slowed the Speeder to a stop and sat up, turning slowly to allow the scanner time to really sweep the area. _Nothing_.

Frustrated, she moved on, twisting to tuck the datapad away and looking back just in time to swerve out of the way of the _rest_ of the ship that she hadn’t seen. Tipping too far over onto her side from the sharpness of the turn, Iza fell from the vessel and rolled a short ways while the Speeder continued on before eventually slamming into another large portion of the ship sticking out of the ground.

“ _Stars!_ ” Spitting dirt from her mouth, Iza picked herself up from the ground and winced at the burning sensation that said she should consider herself lucky her robes were so thick. Lifting her goggles, she groaned and looked around, realizing she was going to have to get in touch with _someone_ back at base if she wanted to get out of here. Deciding she’d rather deal with the possibility of Anakin taunting her for crashing the speeder, Iza lifted her wrist and tapped the button on her comm. “Anakin? Anakin, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Iza. You find something?”

“Sort of,” looking up at the piece of the starship she stood next to, Iza cautiously pressed a hand to it and pushed to see if it would fall.

“Great! Where are you? We’ll come—”

“Leave Ahsoka with Master Obi-Wan,” deciding to go a little further towards where her Speeder had crashed, Iza pulled her datapad back out once more. “I crashed. I don’t want to listen to him.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Not badly, no.” Her knee was bleeding, but she’d definitely been in worse situations. “Skinned knee.”

“All right. Stay where you are and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Hey Anakin?”

“Yeah?”

“What kind of ship was Catcher on? Was it one of the assault ships? Or a standard Cargo?”

“Uh—standard Cargo, I think. Why? What did you find, Iza?”

“I have to go.” Tapping her wrist comm to shut it off, the brunette ran her fingers along the damaged metal as she walked, wishing she knew _more_ about what the Republic’s various different starships looked like. Fighters and Gunships and Assault ships were easy to spot. She had no idea what this was, or if it even _belonged_ to the Republic. That thought had her reaching to the lightsaber clipped at her waist. Just because she couldn’t outright detect anything around, didn’t mean there wasn’t anything here.

When she’d made her way around the large chunk of broken metal, Iza felt her stomach drop. Laid out in front of her, was an absolute _mess_. Cargo crates and bits and pieces of machinery were strewn out for… _Force_ , she couldn’t tell how far. But it was the _bodies_ that had her stomach turning. Broken and lifeless, the Clones spread out across the area looked like dolls that had been tossed by a careless youngling. Obi-Wan’s words suddenly haunted her and Iza had to stop herself from crumbling to her knees right then and there.

 _“He likely won’t have survived_ ,” his voice had been so soft in her head. Like he’d wanted to soothe her while he prepared her for the worst. _“You need to go into this with a realistic outlook, Iza. Catcher is **probably** dead.”_

Her breathing had become erratic as she surveyed the dreadful scene and tried to gather enough wit to throw her senses out, reaching as far as her abilities would allow.

_“Catcher is still out there. I know you feel it.”_

Anakin’s words provided the comfort and backbone she needed to push harder, to strain her abilities until she could feel an ache in the center of her forehead. He _had_ to be here. He _had_ to.

~*~*~*~

“What do you mean _stay here?_ ” Obi-Wan looked a little disgruntled as he watched Anakin gather a few extra bottles of water and a first-aid kit from the crate that had been dragged from a gunship and shove them into the bag strapped to his speeder. “Anakin!”

“She asked for me to come alone,” shrugging, the taller Jedi waved a hand at the vast area in front of them. “Besides, you guys have all of this to comb through. There’s no sense in all of us going when you’re needed here.”

Obi-Wan did _not_ like this. He had a feeling his former apprentice was not being completely honest with him, and maybe that had something to do with the sudden rush of sadness he’d felt wash over him not moments ago. Iza had found _something_ and Anakin knew what it was; only he wasn’t telling. The elder Jedi supposed he couldn’t blame either of them for their sudden secrecy. He had driven them both into silence with his actions back on the ship. He only wished they understood that it was for the best.

“Very well,” he relented, nodding once. “Let us know if we can be of assistance.”

“You know I will.” Hopping back onto the speeder, Anakin jetted off in the direction the tracker on Iza’s datapad was leading him. Stars above, he hoped that whatever she’d found wasn’t going to be enough to snuff out the rest of that poor girl’s light. He wasn’t sure if even Master Obi-Wan would be able to help her if it did.

~*~*~*~

Iza had slowly been making her way through the wreckage, numbly checking each of the corpses she’d come across. None of them were Catcher. She supposed she ought to feel some sort of joy over this, but it only made her sick to kneel and close the eyes of those who’d died bearing witness to whatever had done this to them. She’d even taken the time to try and lay some of them out, crossing their arms—if they still had them—over their chest. Clones or not, they deserved the same respect as anyone else and didn’t need to stay scattered around like garbage.

She had been starting to lose all of what was left of her hope when she _finally_ saw it. Off in the distance, the light of the planet’s distant sun glimmered off of what appeared to be a _window_.

The window to an escape pod.

Time seemed to slow around her as Iza began running towards the pod at top speed, tripping over scattered bits of the cargo ship and other debris, her eyes locked on her target. She drew her lightsaber even before she’d reached the pod, the blue plasma casting a bright light around her as she picked up the pace. Iza wouldn’t even look through the window before she was stabbing the end of the blade into the side of the pod, grunting and panting as she dragged it in a sloppy circle to forge an opening. Tossing the useless panel of metal away with a wave of her hand, she shined the light of her weapon into the pod and almost _screamed_ in shock.

Catcher lay on his back on the floor of the pod—she knew it was him; no other Clone had that scar--his leg twisted at a disgusting angle and dried blood caked down the side of his face. Powering down the lightsaber, Iza scrambled to get inside, dropping down beside him and hovering shaky hands over him. _Stars_ , she didn’t know what to do. Her eyes looked him over a thousand times as her heart pounded in her ears and that all-too familiar tightness in her chest threatened to make her pass out.

 _No_. _No, no, no, **NO!**_

Trembling fingers reached to gently cup his face and Iza gasped out loud when she found he was still _warm_. His pulse was slow and his breathing was _very_ shallow, but he was **warm** and he was _alive_.

“Catch,” her touch was tentative as she stroked at his bruised cheek, trying to wake him. “Catcher,”

A twitch of his head, then a pained groan followed as the Clone stirred, eyes squeezing before they cracked lightly. “…Litt… Little Bit?”

She could’ve cried. She wanted to haul him into her and crush him against her chest and never let go again. But he looked so hurt, so helpless and confused that Iza could only run her fingers through his filthy hair, ignoring the flakes of blood that broke off and fluttered onto her robes.

“Wa… wat…” weakly lifting his hand, Catcher attempted to gesture to his throat and it was then that Iza noticed how dry and chapped his lips looked.

“I have water.” Nodding quickly, she went to her bag for the canteen, pulling it out and biting her tongue as she hesitated. “…can you sit up?”

He shook his head, indicating that he wasn’t sure.

Pressing her lips together, the brunette swallowed hard. She didn’t know if she ought to move him. She knew his leg was _very_ broken, but she didn’t know what other injuries he’d sustained. She hadn’t taken any first-aid with her and couldn’t put a bacta patch on him. But he needed water; only the stars knew how long he’d gone without it.

“This might hurt,” she whispered, chewing hard at her lip as she carefully slipped her hands beneath him. She thought she heard him chuckle before he nodded, and did her best to be as gentle as possible as she lifted him from his spot. Iza couldn’t pretend that his shout of pain didn’t break her heart as she slid behind him and laid him back against her lap, propping him upright against her chest. Kissing the side of his head, she kept her face pressed there for a moment to give him time to adjust to the new position. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,”

He shook his head, a weak smile forming on his lips. A filthy hand covered the top of Iza’s in reassurance before he started to cough, gritting his teeth against the growl of pain that followed.

“Here,” unscrewing the cap of the canteen, Iza tipped it towards his mouth and cradled the back of his head in her palm. “Slowly. You’ll choke yourself.”

Catcher tried to pace himself as he drank, but it was clear that he’d needed this desperately. When he finally turned his head away to breathe, he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against her jaw. It was a few minutes before he found enough will to speak, finding that it was much easier to just take comfort in the young Jedi’s warmth instead.

“How?” he asked, finally. “How, Little Bit?”

“I should ask you that question,” she’d started to run her fingers into his hair again, only to have him cringe in pain and turn away from the touch.

“My men…” Catcher started, his hand seeking hers out again.

“I’m sorry.” Visions of the scattered bodies lying just outside of the pod flooded Iza’s mind, but Catcher only shook his head.

“Pushed,” he used his free hand to weakly pat the side panel of the pod. “I was pushed… in here.”

 _Pushed?_ Someone had gone out of their way to toss him into an escape pod?

“ _Iza?!_ ”

Iza’s head jerked up at the sound of Anakin’s voice and she suddenly didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t just get up and leave Catcher here; moving him around again would cause more pain and that was the last thing she wanted. But she needed to signal him _somehow_ and let him know they were both here. Yelling would only cause issues for the two stuck inside of the pod; there had to be another way.

Looking around for something to maybe throw out of the hole she’d made, Iza spotted Catcher’s helmet just off to the side. Apologizing to him before she started to reach for it—immediately regretting the decision when he let out a muffled holler—she grabbed the helmet and turned it over in her hands, looking for the switch to turn the headlamp on. “Catch, how do I—”

Calloused fingers settled over hers and guided her to the third button along the side and the inside of the pod lit up as the headlamp flicked on.

“Thank you,” another brush of her lips to his temple and Iza was focusing her Force energy on the helmet, causing it to float and hover just above the opening she’d made. With the slightest wave of her fingers, she made it spin slowly, hoping that Anakin would spot the beacon before she grew too tired. She was already so worn out from pushing herself so hard while searching for her Clone.

“Iza!” Anakin’s footsteps were approaching at a fast pace and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, letting the helmet fall back into the pod.

“Careful with that,” Catcher grumbled, giving her a look.

“Be quiet.” Looking up when a shadow was cast over the two of them, Iza felt a sense of relief so heavy that it nearly made her cry. Whether it was her own or Anakin’s, she wasn’t sure. “He’s hurt bad. I can’t move him by myself.”

“I’ll call Sergeant Coric.” Turning to dig into the bag at his side, Anakin leaned into the pod as far as he could. “Put these on him for now.”

Reaching out to catch the handful of bacta patches he’d dropped, Iza nodded and then paused, looking a bit hesitant. “I don’t know how to take any of this off.”

It was then that Catcher let out a laugh that she could tell probably hurt like hell, but was worth it to him. Giving a weak shake of his head, he drew in as deep of a breath as he could and leaned forward, growling deeply and reaching up to pat at his shoulders. “Here, sweetheart. Pop the straps.”

“Oh,” _well_. It wasn’t like she’d ever worn the armor—or _any_ armor—before. Doing as he instructed, Iza got the catches undone and carefully helped him to remove the upper plates of his armor. She didn’t bother trying to get him to lift his arms to get the under tunic off, instead choosing to take the back of the neck between her teeth to weaken the material before ripping it open the rest of the way. A sudden burst of shock arced down her spine at the sight of the dark bruising all down his back and she had to fight off the urge to touch any of it. “ _Stars above_ , Catcher…”

“None of that,” he muttered, pushing the stack of patches towards her.

She didn’t say another thing about it as she split the wrapping of one of the patches and carefully lined it up against his lower back, smoothing it out to make sure that it stuck. After a moment or so, she noticed him breathing a little easier and leaned in to press her face into the back of his neck, arms going around his waist to hold him the way she’d wanted to. Granted, she wasn’t going to cling to him; he was still in pain, after all.

“Hey,” one of his hands ran slowly along her arm and she felt him shifting, trying to get her to pick her head up. “Little Bit,”

“Let me have this, Catcher,” she protested weakly, hoping he couldn’t feel her tears on the back of his neck. “I’ve been in hell. You _smell_ like hell. Let me have this.”

Giving a soft huff of a laugh, he nodded and tilted his head so it rested against hers. “All right, sweetheart. You win.”

~*~*~*~

“Iza, you need to rest,” Obi-Wan insisted as he watched the exhausted looking brunette pace the corridor leading to the medical bay. She’d been here for Force knew how long, irritating the bolts out of the droids and driving herself into such an anxious state that even he couldn’t sit still anymore. “Catcher will be fine.”

“Why can’t I stay with him?” She asked, gesturing to the door that had been locked three times over to keep her out. “I don’t understand!”

“You know very well why you can’t stay with him, Iza. He too, needs his rest.”

She looked like she didn’t enjoy hearing that answer, fidgeting with her hands and tugging that shorter lock of hair behind her ear before she finally stomped her feet like a petulant child and turned to storm down the corridor.

“ _Iza!_ ” Grabbing her by the arm before she could get too far, Obi-Wan practically commanded her to a halt through their Bond, immediately feeling how weak she was on the other end. This wasn’t good; not only was she tired and anxious, but she hadn’t put up any sort of fight to keep him out of her head. If he really wanted to, he could slip into her mind and read it like a book. He’d be able to see all of the worry and pain and anger she’d been harboring for the last month. He’d see that the once-bright light of her Force signature had dulled to something low and nowhere near as lively as it once was. She was toeing a very dangerous line and without help, it would be extremely difficult for her to come back.

But Obi-Wan didn’t need to scold her any further, nor did he have to try and compel her to go to her chambers and rest. Iza had already turned to look at him, and just when he thought she might start arguing the way she always did, she collapsed into his chest. Tired fingers held tight to his robes, doing their best to keep her upright while the elder Jedi swore and hauled her off of her feet. This was what he’d been afraid of. She’d exhausted herself so much that she hadn’t left any energy to even keep herself conscious.

“I don’t feel good,” she murmured into his shoulder, slinging her arms around his neck when he’d picked her up. “Obi-Wan…”

“I’ve got you,” he said as soothingly as possible, turning to carry her towards his chambers instead. “I’ve got you, Iza.”

~*~*~*~

It was unclear which one of them would spend the longest time in recovery, but both Iza and Catcher seemed to take their time getting better. Obi-Wan found himself torn between throwing his efforts into fixing the mess that had been made of the young Jedi’s mind—something he was adamantly against—and letting her figure it out for herself. He soon found that he wouldn’t have much time, as he’d been called to assist in a battle, leaving Anakin to keep eyes on the girl until he returned. Before his departure, the elder Jedi had indeed broken his own personal Code and reached into Iza’s mind without her Go Ahead and had begun to try and repair what he could. He did his best not to pry into anything that was causing her emotions to pull her towards the Dark Side; he was only here to help, not snoop.

Several times, he’d needed to dig a little deeper than he was comfortable with just to rip something out at the root, but he took care not to linger and let these thoughts dwell in his own mind.

There’d been a near-irrepressible urge to nudge her affections for Catcher out of her heart, too. As a man who honored the Jedi Code as strictly as he could, Obi-Wan felt it was almost his duty to make sure that she did too.

But that wasn’t his choice to make.

So he’d left her mostly mended, and gone on his assignment with hopes of returning to the ship to find that she’d _maybe_ made the right one.


	8. We Risk Everything Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's a lil bit _spicy_ , but nothing too outright graphic.
> 
> enjoy~

Iza awoke to the scent of a linen soap she didn’t recognize. It was bland, almost too weak to be detected, but the smell was definitely there and there was another scent along with it that was a little more familiar. _Obi-Wan_.

Sitting bolt upright, she instantly rolled off the cot and onto the floor, wondering just what in the name of The Force she was doing in his damned bed. Searching her memory, she found that the last thing she could recall was that she’d collapsed after they’d recovered Catcher. Everything else was dark.

 _Catcher_.

Getting to her feet, Iza stood on wobbly legs and rushed out of the room as quickly as she could—which wasn’t very quick at all, honestly. Well rested as she might’ve been, she was still weak from being in bed for however long she’d been in bed for, but none of that mattered as she made her way up towards the medical bay. Opening the door with a palm against the panel button, her heart dropped when she saw that the place was empty aside from the droids who worked in here.

“May I help you, Master Jedi?” One chirruped, tilting its head as it rolled up to her.

“The Clone,” she pointed towards the empty beds. “Where is he?”

“Discharged, ma’am.”

“Dis…” trailing off and spinning on her heel, she made a dash to the lower deck, tripping on the stairs as she rushed down to the crew quarters where there were a few Clones milling about. Rex caught her eye from across the room and threw a quick smirk in her direction before jabbing his thumb towards a corner bunk. No time at all was wasted as Iza sprinted over to it and practically threw herself inside, startling Catcher horribly.

“ _Kriffing hell!_ ” his reflexes nearly had him tossing her right back out of the bunk. “Iza, for stars’ sake!”

Ignoring his outraged holler, the brunette brought her hands up to cradle his face in her palms and brought him in for a kiss. Perhaps she shouldn’t have done it in front of his comrades—assuming anyone had stuck around to watch, of course—or on the ship at all. But she’d been filled with such a beautiful sensation of relief that she couldn’t help sharing it with him. She’d missed him so much, too; none of this could be helped. A possessive arm had gone around her waist and pulled her in closer, his lips pressing in a little more firmly. Clearly, he shared the sentiment.

Both seemed reluctant to pull away at all and it took until they were so out of breath that they seemed to be making attempts to steal the air from one another before they finally broke away.

Iza kept her forehead pressed to Catcher’s as she tried steady her breathing as quickly as possible, opening her eyes to find he was already looking up at her, a smile spread across his lips.

“My Little Bit,” bringing a hand up to the side of her face, his smile warmed as Iza leaned into his palm and kissed the inside of his wrist. “I’ve missed you something fierce.”

Letting out a dry laugh, the brunette ducked her head for half a second, muttering something about how he _didn’t know the half of it_ before she found herself unable to stray from his gaze for long. Tracing her fingertips along his jaw, she mapped his features out slowly before stealing another soft kiss.

“You’re going to get us into trouble,” Catcher chuckled against her lips, not sounding particularly bothered. “My brothers are not far away.”

“Take a walk with me, then.”

“Oh, so the security droids can watch? _Smart_.”

“ _Catcher_ ,”

“Don’t pout,” he dropped a kiss to the end of her nose and gave a playful pat to her backside. “Go on. Up. I can’t walk with you stretched out all over me like this.” Pausing to tilt his head, he raised an eyebrow. “Although, I can think of something el—”

Before he could finish, Iza was rolling off of him and getting to her feet, not wanting him to put any ideas in her head that hadn’t already been brewing there in the first place. Straightening her robes as she waited for him to join her, she noticed for the first time that he wasn’t wearing _any_ of the normal armor. Instead, he was dressed in grey trousers and a matching tunic similar to the one she wore beneath her robes. _Interesting_.

“I’m off duty.” He’d caught her staring and gave her a little nudge to get her to start walking. “Fancy way of saying they’re not sure if they want me back on the team just yet.”

“What?” Looking up at him in slight alarm, Iza only relaxed some when he smiled down at her and tugged at the end of her braided hair.

“Easy now. Commander Cody hasn’t charged me with anything. Consider it a… medical leave, of sorts.” Shrugging a shoulder, he let her lead the way up the stairs to the lower deck and sighed once they were out of the crew’s quarters. “I’ll be returning to the battlefield in no time, don’t you worry.”

“Don’t tell me _that_.” Pressing her lips together tightly, Iza frowned. She didn’t need to be reminded of Catcher’s purpose, not right now. Not so soon after getting him back.

“Sweetheart,” lowering his voice when a droid rolled past, chirping to itself and not seeming to notice either of them. “We’re at war. We need every man we can get.”

“Is that all you care about?” she hissed back, moving a little faster down the corridor. She gasped audibly when he caught her gently by the wrist and pulled her back, then slapped his free hand down onto a panel control before dragging her into a storage closet.

“Of _course_ it’s not,” fixing her with a look, Catcher released her wrist and slipped his fingers between hers. “Iza, you know better than that.”

 _Did she?_ She seemed to recall a certain Master Jedi drilling it into her head that Clones were meant to be soldiers and nothing more. They were expendable; they were _numbers_ on a page. They were made by the thousands from the same genetic makeup and when one fell, one more would take that one’s place.

So why was it that she cared so kriffing much for _this_ one?

“Hey,” leaning down, Catcher planted a kiss between her eyes, bringing his free hand up to lift her chin so he could kiss her properly. “Little Bit, don’t do that. Don’t do that to yourself.”

Leaning back a little in surprise, the young Jedi blinked and searched his face curiously, one brow going up when he simply grinned.

“What? You think you Jedi are the only one who know things?” Giving her a wink, he rubbed the pad of his thumb against her chin and hummed. “I know things. I know a lot of things.”

“And what is it you think you know, huh?” she asked, slowly lifting her arms to wind them around his waist, bringing him closer. She almost wanted to shut her eyes when her next intake of breath brought with it that lovely, soft scent of caf with it. But Iza was careful to not let her eyes stray from his, only leaning into his touch and finding it difficult not to let her hands wander up and down along his back.

“I know you get this faraway look in those pretty eyes when you start thinking about things you shouldn’t.” Peppering kisses across her face, Catcher trailed a fingertip over the scar beneath her eye. “I know you only let me go because you thought it was what I wanted. I know you suffered for it, too.”

“ _Don’t,_ ” shaking her head, she stood on her toes and kissed him hard to shut him up. “Be quiet, Catcher.”

“And I have a real good feeling,” he snickered, nuzzling his nose over hers. “That you’re going to do _that_ quite a bit.”

“It’s effective.”

“Is it?” He shot her a teasing look, one brow cocked and the end of his tongue poking out from between his teeth. “Are you sure? Maybe you should try again,”

“You’re _impossible_.” Shaking her head, Iza couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her while she moved her hands around to his chest, then up to his shoulders. As her fingers ran up along the sides of his neck, she leaned into him a little more, eyes widening when she felt a low rumble against her chest as the Clone pressed forward in return. That possessive arm was back, slung low around her waist to hold her tight against his form as Catcher dipped his head and bypassed Iza’s lips entirely, choosing instead to press his warm mouth to her neck.

 _Stars_ , she couldn’t keep the soft gasp of surprise from leaving her, nor could Iza help the way she seemed to go slack in his arms, fingers gripping the material of his tunic. The light graze of his teeth made her toes curl in her boots and Iza squirmed against Catcher’s chest, tugging at the tunic.

“ _Catch_ ,” why was she so breathless? The tingling she could understand, but she hadn’t expected to feel so lightheaded and weak over the way he was kissing at her neck like that.

“ _Iza_ ,” he’d started backing her up against the wall, which she allowed, and pulled the annoying layers of robes away from her shoulder to continue kissing his way along her skin. A low growl sounded in his throat when his lips met with rough linen again and he picked his head up to look at her, leaning in and giving a nipping kiss to the curve of her jaw. “May I?”

“Do you know how?” The words were meant to be in jest, but they came out just as shaky and breathless as ever, earning her an indignant look. Shaking her head, she gestured to the robes. “They’re tricky.”

Catcher scoffed and leaned back, bringing his hands to the belt at Iza’s waist. Within seconds, he had it undone and on the floor, the sash following it before he began tugging at the rest of the layers she wore. When most of it had been cast aside and she’d been left in just the under-tunic and leggings, the Clone cupped her face in his hands again and brought her in for a deep kiss, leaning into her once more. This time around, Iza wasted no time opening up to him, finding it hard to fight the urge she had to press up as close as she could as her fingers slipped up into his short hair and gave the lightest of tugs.

This earned her another one of those low growls and before she knew what was happening, Catcher bent at the knee and caught her behind her thighs, lifting her clear off her feet and silently urging her to wrap her legs around him. When she had, he smoothed hot, rough fingers up beneath the material of the remaining upper layer of clothing she wore and absently nudged his hips forward when he heard her sigh as their skin made contact.

“ _Catcher!_ ” Iza really didn’t _mean_ to bite his bottom lip like that, but it didn’t seem like he cared much when he pulled back to shush her, smiling deviously and pressing a finger to her lips.

“Hush sweetheart,” slinging an arm beneath her to keep her in place, he brushed her arms away from his neck long enough to get his own tunic off. “This door isn’t locked.”

Glassy green eyes shifted from his face over to the door in question and Iza lifted her hand, giving an almost lazy wave of her trembling fingers to drag a rather tall storage shelf in front of it. Looking back at him with a slow smile, she cocked a brow and earned a shake of the head in return.

“You Jedi and your silly tricks,” tutting, Catcher stole a long kiss, pressing himself flush against her.

“ _Be quiet_ ,” she whispered back, taking her turn at dragging her lips down his chin, giving the softest peck to the scar there, and then moving down to his throat the same way he’d done to her. It wasn’t long before his breathing became more erratic than before and his hands were grasping at her hips while she experimented with using her teeth and lips on his skin.

“ _Stars_ , Iza,” he needed to sit; he was starting to become too lightheaded for this. Glancing over his shoulder as best as he could, he reached to knock some spare droid parts off of a crate and sat down with a grunt, wishing immediately that he’d thought ahead a little about that when Iza began shifting in his lap to readjust to the position. Hissing through his teeth when she settled her weight on him, he growled low once more, “ _You little…_ ”

“What?” Leaning back to look at him in a way that was too damn innocent and just plain _torture_ for him, she tried shifting again only to have him snatch her by the waist and lift her clear up off of his lap. “What are you—”

“You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”

“I just,” Iza licked her lips, looking a little frustrated. “I don’t think you unclipped my lightsaber.”

 _Oh dear_.

“Sweetheart,” fixing her with an almost amused look, Catcher had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t laugh. “I assure you— _that is not your lightsaber_.”

 _Stars above_ , the color her face must’ve turned in that moment as realization washed over her. _Of course_. How silly was she to think such a thing? But Catcher only chuckled at her quietly and helped her to settle somewhere a little more comfortable for _him_ in his lap, bringing his hands up to cradle her face in his palms and lure her into a slow kiss. And just like that, her attention was back to the Clone and those dizzying kisses of his.

Tilting her head for him when he’d started moving his mouth down the side of her neck, Iza let out a soft growl of impatience as Catcher dropped kisses along her collarbones and let his hands slip beneath her under tunic again, but kept them at her hips with his fingers lightly stroking at her skin.

“What?” he murmured against her shoulder, glancing upward before deciding the tip of his tongue would fit nicely in the hollow dip of her clavicle, nearly grinning at the way she shivered from the touch.

“ _You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?_ ” She mocked, sounding just a little on the pouty side.

“I told you before, Little Bit,” finally smoothing his big hands further up her torso, he cupped her breasts and tilted his head back to watch her face before sweeping his thumbs in slow passes over the tips. When he spoke again, his voice was back to that low growl, “ _I know things_.”

Iza didn’t even know she was capable of making the sounds that came out of her mouth as she arched forward and tried for more contact than just the teasing little passes. She also hadn’t known that her body could ever betray her in such a way to make her want to knock him back onto the crate and maybe fit herself against him like before. Almost mimicking the Clone’s growl when one of his hands fell away from her chest, Iza started to protest, only to have him give a hearty tug to her under-tunic and pull it off completely.

“Better?”

“No,” she shook her head, earning herself a raised brow and an almost wild grin from him.

“Well then,” letting his other hand skim back down to her hip—knowing full well it was going to frustrate her further—he tucked his fingertips beneath the waist of her leggings and stroked the soft skin beneath. “Is there something else you’d like, maybe?”

“I…” _Well, yeah_. But Iza wasn’t sure exactly how to verbalize that. She’d never done this before. Catcher had been her first _kiss_ , for Stars’ sake. He seemed to have a little more experience in this area than she did—not that she really wanted to think about that at the moment—so wasn’t _he_ supposed to just… guess?

Leaning forward while he waited for her answer, Catcher began pressing kisses along her bare chest, smiling silently to himself when the legs straddling him gave an involuntary shiver and tensed against his. _Well_ , this was a good start, wasn’t it? Pressing a palm into the base of her spine to bring her a little closer, he worked his mouth over her skin slowly, occasionally looking up to gauge her reaction. _Oh, Force_ , did she really need to look back at him like that?

“Please,” her voice was so soft and breathless that Catcher almost hadn’t heard her. “Catch,” delicate fingers came up to run through his hair and down along his jaw as the brunette bit down on her bottom lip and shifted on his lap, causing him to groan in response. “Catcher, I can’t take it.”

“Yeah?” the hand resting at the base of her back slid up into her hair, fingers wriggling into the tightly bound locks to loosen the braid a bit. “That so?”

“ _Don’t tease_ ,” already she was leaning forward in his lap, pressing her bare chest into his and grazing the edges of her teeth over his chin. “Please?”

“Are you sure?” The question was more of an honest one than an attempt to continue taunting her, and Catcher followed it up with a tender little kiss to her lips, not surprised when she deepened it and lingered before giving her answer.

“I am,” of course she was. Iza would’ve asked him to stop a long time ago if she’d had any doubts. “Are you?”

“Sweetheart,” chuckling, Catcher rested his forehead to hers and gave and affectionate nuzzle to her cheek. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.”

“Me either,” luring him into another slow kiss, Iza slipped her arms around his neck and smiled against his lips when he pulled her higher up in his lap and stood to carefully take them both to the floor. Savoring the taste of his kiss, the brunette let out a sharp gasp as she was settled onto the _freezing_ metal that was quick to warm beneath her. “ _Rude_.”

“Sorry sweetheart,” he didn’t look sorry at all as he hovered above her, reaching to grab one of the fallen bits of clothing, balling it up and tucking it behind Iza’s head. “Is that better?”

“A little,” no, but she wasn’t going to complain. It was a sweet gesture. Besides, she _definitely_ wasn’t going to complain about having him lean over her like that. How was it that she’d only _now_ realized that he was built like damn tank? A very attractive, very _arousing_ tank.

“I see that look,” leaning over her once more, Catcher braced his hands on either side of Iza’s head and hummed thoughtfully as he gazed down at her.

“ _What_ look?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just shifted around above her, brushing her knees apart so he could settle between them with a heavy sort of groan. Exhaling through his nose, he managed to grin and lifted a hand to lightly tap the end of her nose. “The look that always means _trouble_.”

“Does it?” Bringing her hands up, Iza brushed her fingers over his chest, tracing the definition lines of his pecs and lower to his abdomen. “Coz from where I am, it looks like Trouble’s right here. So you must be seeing your own reflection, Catch.”

Groaning low in his throat, Catcher leaned down and stole a kiss, inhaling sharply when Iza nudged her hips up from the floor and caught him off guard completely. The sound he made next was akin to a snarl as he cupped her chin in between his fingers and turned her head to get at her neck, teeth unforgiving when they found a tender spot that made her whine when touched. Perhaps he should’ve been a little less aggressive about leaving marks all over her pretty neck like that, but she tested his restraint—not to mention his patience—more than he wanted to admit.

“Catcher,” when had she gotten her hands on his belt? Scratch that—when had she gotten the damn thing _undone?_

“I know,” _boy_ , did he. “Just a minute, sweetheart. Can’t rush these things.”

Iza wanted to argue about how he’d already been taking his sweet damn time, but she knew he was right. So she busied herself with letting her fingers explore the surface of his broad shoulders while he took care of getting them both out of their trousers, giggling when she was made to lift her legs so he could yank her boots off before anything else could be pulled off of her body. Again, the ship’s flooring was stupidly cold against her burning skin, and she would have preferred to settle her legs around Catcher’s hips if he’d let her.

But he was hesitating. Braced above her with a thoughtful look on his handsome face, the Clone brought his eyes up to meet hers for confirmation again.

“You’re sure?”

“ _Catcher,_ ”

“Iza,” a big palm brushed along her thigh in an attempt to soothe her impatience. “You understand this will be uncomfortable at first?”

“For _stars’_ sake!” slapping her hand down on the floor, she practically rolled her eyes at him. “I’m quite aware, Catcher. Would you like the entire rundown of the verbal lesson Master Windu gave me? Notes and all?”

“No,” lowering his head to kiss her, the hand on her thigh slipped up along the inside of it while gently pressing to encourage her to part her legs a little further for him. “I don’t need a lesson.”

He sure as hell didn’t.

Iza’s back arched clear off the floor at the first brush of his fingertips between her thighs, the startled gasp becoming a moan as he made a second pass, then a third. His mouth was on her neck again and working that same tender spot as he carefully eased a finger inside and _growled_ into her skin.

Oh _stars_ , this was going to be a true test of his self-control, wasn’t it?

“ _Catcher_ ,” her voice was so _kriffing_ soft in his ear. “You’re teasing,”

“Not teasing, sweetheart,” more like _prepping_ , but he didn’t really want to use those words to describe it to her. “No more teasing, I swear.”

Taking a breath, he licked his lips and pulled back enough to line himself up with her, keeping a sharp eye on her face as he slowly began pressing his hips forward. Pausing immediately when Iza’s body tensed and she brought her hands up against his chest, he waited until she’d relaxed again before he continued, dropping his head with a rather vulgar curse and nipping sharply at her earlobe. He wouldn’t budge until the young Jedi skimmed her fingers up into his hair and gave a tiny pull.

“Catcher,” she sounded shaky, but still sure of herself when she gave his hips a good squeeze with her thighs.

He moved on her then, carefully drawing his hips back while still being mindful enough to gauge her reaction as he rocked forward again. Doing his best to keep his breathing as level as he could—sweet merciful _Force_ , she was almost too glorious to comprehend—Catcher kept the pace slow and easy, which seemed to do well for both of them. At least until the wicked little thing _dragged_ her damned nails down the center of his back.

“ _Iza, dammit,_ ” pressing his face to her shoulder as he fought not to jerk his hips into her too roughly, Catcher found himself tunneling his hand into her hair and holding on for dear damn life. “Take it easy,”

“I _can’t_ ,” those sharp little nails were pricking down his back again, slower this time. “Catcher, it’s so _hot_. I can’t take it.”

“I know,” brushing his lips over hers, he found he couldn’t kiss her for as long as he would’ve liked. They were both breathing much too hard for that and besides, he didn’t want to muffle the sweet sounds she was making for him. “Me too, sweetheart,”

Iza couldn’t help the way she kept clutching at Catcher, pulling him in closer—first by clawing at his back, and then pulling at his hips until he’d readjusted his position above her and started moving at a faster, more tolerable pace. It wasn’t too long before he was having to smother the sounds she made with rough kisses, all while making harsh noises of his own in between murmured curse words and the occasional uttering of her name. He really had a foul mouth, didn’t he? She’d never noticed before. Or maybe there’d never been much of an occasion for him to drop every last expletive in the cosmos he happened to know.

Honestly, in conjunction with the way he kept tugging at her hair each time his hips met hers, that filthy mouth of his was making her _burn_ from the inside out. She’d tried to tell him, tried to get a word in somewhere in between the moment he’d sealed his lips over that tender spot on her neck, and when the blistering heat became too much to bear. But all Iza could do was pull at him and squeeze her legs tight around his hips, calling out to him and almost biting at his fingers when he covered her lips to smother the sound.

He hadn’t wanted to, but there was still a _very_ big risk of being caught. A final arch of his hips was all he needed before he had to press his face to her skin and drown out the sounds of his own release. For a few long moments, they stayed almost completely still until Iza’s legs could no longer stay clinging to him and slowly relaxed as her breathing came in shallow pants against his fingers.

“ _Catcher_ ,” Iza felt wonderfully delirious as she skimmed her hands over the Clone’s sweaty skin. “ _Stars above_ ,”

Chuckling lowly against where he’d pressed his face, Catcher took a few moments before shifting above her, sucking in a soft breath through clenched teeth as he lifted himself off of her and settled onto the cold floor. “Told you I knew things.”

Whining at the loss of his weight and warmth, Iza settled for being pulled into his arms and being lured into a slow kiss that set her head spinning even more. “Uh huh,” was all she could get out.

As Iza snuggled into him, trading kisses and sweet little touches with Catcher on the floor of the storage closet, she couldn’t help thinking about how Anakin had been right.

 _The light **always** comes back_.


	9. What the Heart Wants

“You look pretty chipper,” Anakin was nothing but a basket of sly smiles this morning as he walked alongside Iza on her way to the Mess Hall, watching from the corner of his eye as she seemed to fuss with the way her robes rested against her neck. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” pulling her hair over her shoulders to further attempt to mask the marks Catcher had left behind on her neck the day before, Iza wondered if a little bit of bacta would’ve been a better solution to this problem.

“ _I bet_.”

Turning a little too fast to look at the younger Jedi, Iza paid no mind to where she was going and slammed right into the back of a service droid in the middle of rewiring a door panel. Muttering an apology, she rubbed the spot where she’d smacked her chin on the droid’s head and realized the panel being repaired was the one leading into the same storage closet from yesterday. The last time a droid had to be called to fix a door panel on one of these ships, Anakin had been at fault.

 _Oh, **kriff**_.

Still, Anakin only smirked like he knew the biggest secret in the entire galaxy as he walked with his hands tucked behind his back and his eyes straight ahead.

“Anakin,” she needed to swear him to silence and she needed to do it _now_.

“Hm?”

 _Nope_ , she couldn’t do it. “Do you know what happened to the door back there?”

“Dunno,” shrugging, he stole a quick glance at her from the corner of his eye and let out the softest snort he could. “I think the lock jammed or something.”

“Jammed?”

“Yeah,” turning a hand up, he gave it a careless wave. “Just the outer lock though. Pretty sure anything trapped inside would have been able to get out.”

She was going to be sick. No—she was going to be in _trouble_. She and Anakin had been getting along just fine but he held no real loyalties to her aside from being a fellow Jedi. It would be the right thing for him to do if he reported her to the Council, or to Obi-Wan at the very least. Oh Stars, she was going to be exiled. Catcher was going to be dispatched permanently. All because the two of them hadn’t been able to control themselves—

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said smugly, giving her another look as they turned the corner.

“Excuse me?”

“You _do_ know that this area is pretty high traffic, right?” Motioning around, he fixed her with a look that was disturbingly similar to something she’d expect out of Master Kenobi. “I hope you’re grateful for the work I put in redirecting all of it while you and Catcher—”

“ _Shut up!_ ” hissing at him, Iza grit her teeth and then covered her mouth with a hand, shutting her eyes before covering her face completely and swearing.

“You kiss your Clone with that mouth?”

She punched his shoulder with a little more strength behind it than she meant to, immediately regretting the move and turning to prop herself against the wall. Rubbing her palms over her face with a loud, miserable groan, Iza dragged her fingers through her hair and _really_ tried not to pull at the ends.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, looking up to find that Anakin was still just smiling at her, though it was in a more reassuring way this time around.

“Listen,” leaning on the wall beside her, he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m not going to tell another soul about anything. As far as anyone knows, I don’t _know_ anything, anyway.” Looking over at her, Anakin smirked again and gave her shoulder a quick knock with his. “I told you before, Iza, I’m not like my Master. I feel like if you can keep your head level, you should be allowed whatever makes your light shine at its purest.”

“It’s back,” she said suddenly, still keeping her voice low on the off chance someone came around the corner and dropped in on them. “The light, Anakin. It’s _back_. You were right.”

“I know.” Grinning, the younger Jedi shot her a quick wink and pushed away from the wall, waving for her to continue following him. He said nothing more as they continued on their way, though he _did_ give her a little bit of a playful tap to her arm when he spotted Catcher walking towards them in his casual wear.

Swatting him back, Iza broke away and walked ahead of Anakin, meeting Catcher’s eyes and doing her best not to smile too brightly. He, on the other hand, grinned like a damned fool. _So much for subtlety_.

“Morning, Little Bit,” tossing an arm around her shoulder like he was nothing more than her best buddy in the entire cosmos, the Clone steered her into the Mess and up to the tray line. “Do something new with your hair?”

“It’s just… down.” She realized that maybe he’d never seen her with her hair down before. She usually wore it twisted up in some sloppy knot at the back of her head or in a braid if she was feeling particularly lazy. Iza wasn’t really one to experiment with hairstyles.

“Looks nice.” Discreetly, Catcher twisted a tiny lock of it around his finger and _tugged_ , casting a knowing grin in her direction as he nudged her down the line. Leaning over her to grab something he’d decided he didn’t want to wait for, he was careful about how close he got before whispering, “You should really put that extra layer of yours on until you can get some bacta. I’ve left your neck a _mess_.”

And then he was waltzing around her with his tray held up like his usual self and Iza _honestly_ wasn’t sure what the hell to do. She was suddenly extremely self-conscious about everyone noticing the love bites all over her throat, but also didn’t want to draw attention to herself if she walked out of the Mess just to go grab her outer robe. So, she just took the food she intended to eat and began to carry her tray to the table Catcher had sat down at.

She probably would have gone right ahead and taken up the spot next to him had she not felt the very _distinct_ Force signature of Obi-Wan seem to pop in out of nowhere. Her hand twitched at the thought of having to throw up every last mental shield she had before he could get close enough to sense anything out of place, and she hadn’t even realized that the majority of the hall was giving her a strange look until after she heard the announcement that _General Kenobi was preparing to come aboard_.

Deciding she wasn’t hungry anymore, Iza set the tray down on the nearest table and tried not to rush out of the room. She didn’t have a lot of time to get to her chamber and get that damn robe on and she couldn’t afford to take a chance on _just_ a bacta patch when she didn’t even know how long it would take to work. It would be just her damn luck that the thing wouldn’t work at all on the marks, too.

Making it to her room in record time, she slipped inside and locked the door behind her, going to the standing closet to grab the long, dark brown robe and slip it on. Looking into the mirror on the inside of the door, she spent a good long few minutes adjusting and readjusting the material around until she was satisfied that everything was covered. And then she went to the drawer beside the bed that held a little first-aid box and dug around for a smaller version of the bacta patches that were kept in the medical bay. Unsure where to put it, she rolled her sleeve up and simply wrapped it around her forearm. She wished she had some of the spray they kept in the field kits, but that would require sneaking down to the hangar and going through Sergeant Coric’s things.

It would be too much damn trouble and take too much time, and she didn’t have that. She could feel Obi-Wan aboard the ship now and she shut her eyes as she began severing little links here and there so he wouldn’t be able to reach across them and start accessing things he didn’t need to see. When she was satisfied that she’d blocked him out enough, the brunette checked her reflection once more—glad to see the lighter marks were already starting to fade—and opened the door to leave.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan’s presence nearly had her yelling at the top of her lungs when she found him standing on the other side of the door. The look in his blue eyes was sharp and for a moment, Iza was sure he was there to toss her straight out of the Order without bothering to consult the Council or her own Master to let her plead her case. Instead, he simply walked into the room and moved to sit on the single chair in the corner. “I’m glad to see you looking like yourself again. I was beginning to get worried.”

 _What?_ This was just a courtesy call?

“Don’t make that face at me,” he wasn’t even looking at her anymore, too busy eyeballing the bacta patch wrappers she’d forgotten to throw away. _Kriff_. “The last time I saw you, you were bedridden from exhaustion. Have you hurt yourself?”

“What? Oh,” grabbing up the bits of paper, she wadded them up and went into the bathroom to toss them into the bin. “It’s nothing major.”

She could feel him running his _Force Fingers_ , as Catcher called it, over their Bond as if tentatively searching for some tell that she was lying, but Iza did her best to stand her ground. He wouldn’t get into her head and he wouldn’t see anything she didn’t want him to.

“Have you been to see Catcher?”

 _Hah_. There it was. If he couldn’t pry the silent way, he’d just straight up ask.

“Of course I have. Why wouldn’t I?”

“And?” the elder Jedi pressed.

“And _what?_ What is this about, Obi-Wan?”

Raising an eyebrow, Obi-Wan pushed himself out of the chair and turned his hands up. “I simply came to check and see how you were doing, and how your friend was doing.”

“You had to walk right by the Mess to get here,” folding her arms, the brunette tried not to scrunch her shoulders as the outer robe scratched her neck with the movement. “Had you taken one second of your time to look, you’d see for yourself that he’s recovered nicely.”

“Is that so? Well, that’s fantastic to hear.” He offered her a smile and took a few steps closer to the door.

“What else do you want?” No, she wasn’t buying this for a second. There was something else going on here; Obi-Wan wouldn’t just come straight to her chamber right off of an assignment if everything was peachy-keen.

He let out a short laugh and gave her a look. “You _must_ be feeling better if you’re being this short with me.”

“I don’t enjoy feeling as though someone is about to spring a trap on me. You have come here and asked me things that could have waited until after I’ve had my breakfast, questioned me about _Catcher_ when I know you don’t even want me to sniff in his general direction.” _Breathe_. She needed to breathe and channel that anger back out so she wouldn’t weaken her defenses. “ _What do you **want** , Master Kenobi?_”

“You and I are to go on an assignment. Covert; no Anakin or Ahsoka and no Clones.” Well, at least he’d finally come out with it. “There’s word of a Spice runner taking up shop on several different planets, and he’s rumored to be linked with the Separatists. Count Dooku, specifically.”

“What do you need me for? You’ve got a whole handful of people who could go with you.”

“You’re the only one of fitting age and gender.”

 _Hold the communicator_. What the hell did he just say?

“I’ll need you to act as my consort. Well… I daresay I’ll be acting as _yours_.” A tight, unsure sort of smile lifted the corners of his lips and Obi-Wan ran a thoughtful hand over his beard. “You see, this man has a… _taste_ , if you will, for young blood. You, my dear, are just about the right age group, and you’ve certainly got enough spunk to pull this off if you work on trying to appeal to other people.”

“You… want me… to _seduce_ …”

“Ah—” he wagged a finger at her. “Not seduce, simply have a nice long _chat_ and see if you can’t loosen him up a bit. We need all of the information we can get out of him.”

“And if I decline?”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll be sent back to the Temple. Master Windu says he has a few post-Trials lessons he’d like to give you.” Waving his hand dismissively, the brunet made a face. “He said something about a technique he promised to show you when you were ready for it.”

 _Great_. She had a choice between going undercover as a harpy while using him as arm candy. That was _exactly_ what she felt like doing. On the other hand, the idea of going back to the Temple where Catcher couldn’t follow simply because Master Windu would insist upon isolation for this lesson wasn’t ideal either. He’d really slammed her between a rock and a hard place, hadn’t he?

“When?” she asked, absently reaching up to tug at her robe, hoping that the bacta patch was doing its job and the marks were fading.

“Pardon?”

“When do we need to do this job?”

“We’ll be heading back to Coruscant for debrief, and then you and I will need to spend time at the market to pick out something for you to wear.”

“I thought we couldn’t have nice clothing?”

“It’s only for the job, Iza. You will not be required to keep it.”

“I want a bodyguard.” She said suddenly, pulling herself up to her full height, which would still only put the top of her head above chin level for him.

“No.” He shook his head. “No compromises this time around, I’m afraid.”

“Where am I supposed to put my lightsaber? I know _exactly_ what sort of outfit you’re going to try and make me wear, Obi-Wan, and I do not foresee any way to hide it.” Propping her hands on her hips, Iza tried to keep the anxiety from gnawing at her gut. She didn’t like this; she’d just gotten Catcher back and _really_ didn’t want to part ways from him, not for something like this.

“I will have mine.”

“That’s reassuring. You know you won’t be with me the whole time.” Was it too late to back out? Surely there had to be another female Jedi back at the Temple who would be more willing to take on a task like this.

“I will make sure you’re armed. You will not be alone, Iza.”

“And if he figures out what I am?”

“It’ll be your job to make sure he _doesn’t_.”

Their gazes locked but Iza wasn’t going to give him the time he needed to pull his crap and stare into her soul. Turning her head away, she glared at the wall instead and worked her jaw, twisting at a piece of her loose hair before giving it a tug. She hated this; deep down, she knew _this_ was exactly why attachments were forbidden. Maybe it would get easier with time, but everything was still so _new_ and _sweet_ that she didn’t want to lose that so soon.

But this was _war_ , as everyone around her kept reminding her. War meant having to make sacrifices that hurt you down to your very core and snuffed out parts of your soul that were hard to relight. She’d just managed to get that light burning brightly again and felt _whole_ ; being away from Catcher would only take it away.

 _“You carry the responsibility of a Jedi Knight on your shoulders now, Iza_ ,” Master Windu’s voice echoed in her head. “ _Take care not to squander it_.”

She felt ashamed of herself for having strayed so far from the things that her Master had taught her. Master Windu had worked so hard to make sure she kept her head on straight during their lessons, always helped to reassure her during the times when she swore it was too hard and wanted to give up. He’d always given her the space she needed to grow as both a person and a Jedi, but he’d never stopped teaching her the importance of _honesty_. Of trusting in another soul to have complete access to the dark things that crept into her head and caused doubt.

Now she was shutting off Bond links and harboring secret feelings that jumbled her emotions so much that _doubt_ had become second nature. She was slowly beginning to become everything she and her Master worked so hard to avoid, and she didn’t have it in her to admit that she truly needed that Secret Lesson of his now.

 _A lesson_.

She could see all of this as a lesson in patience, in learning to be discreet. Even Anakin’s pathetic joke of a warning this morning had been full of genuine concern. If she wanted this, she would need to stop being so reckless and open to being caught. They’d tried separating themselves before, but not on the right terms. Perhaps if they sat down and discussed it, both Iza and Catcher could get through this together until they were able to find _some_ way to get around the rules.

“Iza?”

She jumped a little, having forgotten that Obi-Wan was even in the room she was so lost in thought. Shutting the thoughts out for now, she combed her fingers through her long hair and nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she spoke softly, but without hesitation. “I’ll go.”

He eyed her for a moment, giving a single nod of his head as he turned to continue on his way to the door. “Very good. Take the next day or so to rest up and perhaps work a little on your… people skills.”

Iza might have given him a dirty look if she wasn’t so damn deep in thought. Instead, she let him go without fuss, sitting down hard on the edge of the bed when the door had slid shut behind the older man. She would heed his advice and _rest up_ , but she didn’t think she needed to worry about her people skills. She had a bigger problem to deal with. A six-foot, muscle bound, foul-mouthed problem that she’d left sitting in the Mess all by his lonesome. _Stars_ , some partner she was supposed to be.

Rubbing her hands over her face, Iza got to her feet to check the state of her neck in the mirror, deciding to shed the outer robe when she saw the marks had faded quite a bit. If anyone asked, she’d been bitten by a bug—or something.

Opening the door to her chamber, she’d started to step out when she found Catcher standing just down the corridor, leaning up against the wall with his arms folded over his chest and a _sour_ look on his face. He’d turned his head upon hearing the door and Iza felt a quick pang of surprise when he pushed off the wall and stalked towards her.

“What the _hell_ was he doing in your room?” _Oh_.

“Are you serious?”

“ _Iza_ ,” he was practically frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal, dark eyes blazing as he towered over her and almost completely blocked her from leaving the room.

Grabbing the front of his tunic, she hauled him inside and shut the door, staring up at him almost like she didn’t recognize the man standing in front of her. “Have you gone thermal? Catcher, does it _look_ like he was here for anything more than a talk?”

“Why’s your robe on the bed?”

“You _told_ me to get it. I got a patch instead.” Yanking her sleeve up to show him the patch stuck on her forearm, she brandished it in front of her to give him a good damn look. The Clone’s eyes lowered to the white medical strip for a quick moment, then back up to meet hers, unsatisfied.

“It’s that Bond, isn’t it? You turned into a statue only seconds before they announced his arrival, and then you rushed out of the room like someone had set you on fire.” He stepped closer, but Iza wasn’t going to flinch. “He’s got you wrapped tight around his little finger, and I _don’t_ like it.”

_Oh, **really**?_

“Need I remind you that it’s _your_ fault in the first place that I’ve been Bonded to him? I’m Bonded to Master Windu as well. Are you going to question me whenever I go to see him, too?”

“That’s different,”

“How? How is it _different_ , Catcher?”

“General Windu doesn’t look at you the way General Kenobi does.” He was clenching his jaw like it disgusted him to even _think_ the words, let alone say them. A vein had begun to pop in his temple and Iza wondered if she’d ever seen him this angry before. “General Windu doesn’t ask about _books_ and how to keep you comfortable in his company. _You’re_ the one who’s gone thermal if you haven’t noticed by now, _sweetheart_.”

“Well in case _you_ haven’t noticed, I don’t really **care**!” _No_ , she would not lose control of herself. Not now. Not with that man on board the ship. If he felt distress radiating from this room, he’d likely cut the door open to get in and see what— _oh no_. He was right; Catcher was right. There was more to Master Kenobi’s actions than what she was seeing. She’d been so careful not to tread into his mind where she wasn’t wanted—hadn’t had the desire to see anything there, really—that she’d made herself blind to the subtle hints that there was _more_ to the situation than she knew.

“What? What’s that look?” Catcher asked, still sounding less than thrilled to be having this conversation.

“Nothing,” she shook her head, pressing her palm to her forehead and shutting her eyes as if that might help shove the revelation out of her mind. Heaving a sigh, she turned to look back up at him and then gave his chest a push, glaring. “Do you know the _torment_ I went through without you? _Do you?_ ” Yes, best to change the subject—at least a little. “Do you know what watching you leave did to me? And you have the stones to stand there and accuse me of carrying out some sort of twisted affair with… _that man?!_ ”

“As if _either_ of us had a choice in the matter, Iza!” He stepped up closer yet again, seemingly unbothered by the shove. He was toe to toe with her now, towering over her almost menacingly as his gaze pierced right through her. Big hands cupped the young Jedi’s head, cradling it in a disturbingly gentle manner—a complete contrast to the fierce anger held in his stance—and as he swept his thumb over the scar on her cheek, he growled low in his chest. “You know damn well I only did what I had to.”

“You **_broke_** me,” her lower lip dared to quiver, but only once, and then she was fighting to keep tears from trickling out of her eyes. “You took my light from me.”

It was then that Catcher seemed to flinch, features shifting from anger, to shock, then to something like shame. The jealous fire in his eyes was snuffed out, leaving behind that glittering softness she was used to. He looked like he didn’t know what he wanted to say, and that he wanted to say everything all at once. Instead, he leaned down and rested his forehead to hers, thumbs stroking her cheeks in soothing passes even as hot tears interrupted their path. “My Little Bit,”

“I was in hell,” she whispered, vaguely remembering having told him this in the pod before, but it’d lacked the proper context then. “It was so _dark_ without you, Catcher.”

“I suffered, too,” his breath was warm on her face, voice low and steady. “It was so hard keeping my mind straight knowing that you were so far away from me. I had so many regrets. _So many_.”

Lifting her hands, Iza twisted her fingers in the material of Catcher’s tunic and pulled him against her chest to close the space between them and surround herself with his warmth. Breathing in that heady scent of caf on his skin, she cuddled into him and gasped out loud when he tilted her head up and kissed her hard.

“ _Mine_ ,” he murmured against her lips, fingers sliding into her hair to brush it away from her face. “Please just say you’re mine.”

She didn’t know whether to moan or to cry with joy at his words. Trying to keep up with the biting kisses as much as she could, she nodded and leaned back to look him in the eye. “I’m yours, Catcher. **_Only yours_**.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, he dropped his arm around her waist to hold her to him even tighter, making her squirm a little. A quiet chuckle resonated in his throat and he pulled out of the kiss to shake his head at her. “Now? So soon?”

“Bathroom,” she was already pushing him in the general direction, hands fussing to get her robes off as quickly as possible. “Nobody can hear anything if we run the shower.”


	10. Behind Blue Eyes

“No, I don’t like this one.” Iza muttered as she was presented with a deep blue dress that was just a _little_ too tacky looking for her tastes. Shopping with Obi-Wan was proving to be extremely difficult, seeing as neither of them seemed to know exactly how to do it. She’d only ever admired the beautiful clothing in the shops of Coruscant; never tried to style herself in any of it, not even for _fun_.

Obi-Wan was just kriffing hopeless in general. He kept picking things that were either too juvenile or were meant for someone much older than Iza. Twice now, he’d brought her floor length gowns similar to those she’d seen Senator Amidala wear to hearings and she’d turned her nose up at them. Pretty as they were, they weren’t exactly suitable for what the job entailed. She would have been better off shopping with Ahsoka, or maybe even Anakin at this rate. Young as he was, he probably had a better eye for what a man wanted to look at than _Obi-Wan Kenobi_.

“Well, you need to pick _something_ , Iza.” Frowning at the dress draped over his arm, the man moved to set it back on the rack and sighed. “We don’t have a lot of time to be fussing about like this.”

“I _apologize_ , Master. I don’t exactly know what to look for.”

“Perhaps asking a shopkeeper for assistance would be a better idea.”

Now _why_ hadn’t they done that a little sooner? Giving him a silent look as if to ask that, she moved on from the rather conservative shop and stopped outside of one that sold more _youthful_ looking clothing. Okay, this could work. A lot of it looked like someone had just stitched tiny pieces of material together to laughingly pass off as clothing, but she was trying _not_ to look like a Jedi.

“Can I help you?” The smooth, thickly accented voice of a tall Twi’lek woman startled Iza out of her thoughts and the young Jedi smiled up at her politely.

“Yes, actually, you can.”

~*~*~*~

 _Wow_.

Iza couldn’t believe that what she was staring at was her own reflection. She’d known that her robes held no purpose for embracing her shape, but it was rather startling to see herself in something that framed her body like this. The deep green dress was a mess of straps up top that provided almost _no_ support whatsoever, while the skirt flowed to the floor with two slits up either side that went _just_ high enough to border on being obscene. Her back was bare all the way down to the tops of her hips and Iza just couldn’t stop _staring_ at herself.

When had she filled out like this? She’d obviously taken note of the changes to her body as she grew older, but the brunette had never really given too much thought about it. There’d been those fleeting moments of pining for something a little more form-fitting to wear, but she’d never expected to see a result like this. Fingers tentatively smoothing over the eerily cool, velvety fabric, she wondered what Catcher would think if he saw her in it.

Then she knew _instantly_ what Catcher would think if he saw her in it and knew she’d never be allowed to leave her chamber again. Jealous as he was, he’d already been _extremely_ aggravated to hear that she was being sent out to flirt with some Spice-slinging Seppie. He’d absolutely blow his lid if he knew she’d be going out in _this_ to do it. Maybe when the job was over, she’d keep it—in secret, of course. Or she’d make him hold onto it so that it wouldn’t count as a personal artifact. She had no idea when she’d have another chance to wear it, or if she’d have a chance to ever let him see her in it, but it couldn’t hurt to have it around _just in case_.

“Iza?” Obi-Wan’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts and the brunette pulled the privacy curtain aside to address him.

“Yes?”

 _Stars above_. Obi-Wan was no stranger to feminine skin being put on blatant display like this, but he hadn’t expected her to come out of that little changing booth looking as though she was born to wear that silly excuse for a dress. It made her look very _adult_ , yet so _soft_ at the same time; extremely alluring and quite confusing for his eyes to look at. He was used to the thick layers of robes she wore and the messy way she wore her hair. He could never have guessed that underneath all of that…

“Master Kenobi?”

 _Nope_. _Eyes up, Kenobi. Clear your head. Back to the present with you._ A smile formed on his lips and he cleared his throat. “Well, I see you’ve found something,”

Iza stared at him a moment before nodding. “I have,” turning back to look at herself in the mirror, she didn’t notice how Obi-Wan’s blue eyes traced over her bare back and further down to where the material of the dress clung to her backside. “I just feel so vulnerable in this.”

“I assure you, Jedi Iza,” _be formal and keep your **kriffing** eyes to yourself_. “I will be nearby at all times. I will not let any harm come to you.”

Turning again to give herself another angle to look at, Iza found more thoughts of disbelief over how her own body looked starting to seep in. She had great legs, didn’t she? Beautiful thighs that nicely complimented her hips and backside, and her waist had just the right amount of curve to it. The light definition of muscle all over her body was a testament to how hard she’d worked over the years to get to where she was now, and yet there was still a suppleness to her body that was so painfully feminine that it made her wish she could dress this way more often. Maybe if she hadn’t suddenly started thinking about the clinginess of the material, Iza wouldn’t have questioned the thoughts in her head.

Something zipped through her mind about how lovely her breasts looked framed by the tight fitting straps and she suddenly knew that _she_ wasn’t the one thinking these things at all.

One glance to the mirror and she could see Master Obi-Wan’s blue eyes locked elsewhere shining with a gleam she recognized—just not in _his_ eyes. Clearing her throat loudly to startle him out of his rather intrusive and improper thoughts, she grabbed the curtain and yanked it closed again.

“Please tell the shopkeeper that we’ll be taking this one.” She said shakily, moving to start getting the damned thing off of her so she could escape back into the comfort of her robes. “The shoes too.”

“Of course,” he sounded almost embarrassed, as if he knew he’d been caught. _Good_. She hoped he sat and meditated on how intrusive his perverse thoughts were until his brain melted. “I’ll meet you outside.”

~*~*~*~

Iza had never felt so damned relieved to be back in her own robes before and it took her a few minutes before she could gather up the dress and the horribly uncomfortable shoes that went along with it, taking them to the counter to pay and thank the woman for all of her help. Force help her, she hadn’t wanted to leave simply because she hadn’t wanted to meet up with _that man_. But as she tightened her outer robe around her like some kind of safety shield, she walked out with the bag in her hand and found him standing patiently on the other side of the walkway. She cast a quick glance at him and then turned to start walking back towards the Temple, not willing to stop and talk.

“Iza,” his footsteps grew louder as he walked up alongside her. “Please let me explain—”

“Explain _what?_ That you’re walking around with your brain full of filth when you look at me?” _Stars_ , she felt disgusting. Part of her wanted to toss the blasted dress over the side of the walkway and forget about this whole thing altogether. It would have been one thing if he had kept his thoughts to himself, but he’d gone and broadcasted them to her over their Bond as if she’d had any business knowing about it.

“I am still a _man_ , Iza,” not the best argument to make, but he didn’t know how else to explain this away. “I’m not proud of myself.”

She ought to tell Catcher. Maybe then Obi-Wan would learn not to put sick thoughts into the minds of another man’s woman. But that would mean revealing secrets that were best left behind closed doors. It almost made her laugh; she could keep her filth to herself when she looked at Catcher, but one stupid little dress had a _Master Jedi_ like Obi-Wan losing grip on his own Bond locks.

“Iza, please listen to me,” he’d reached to take her hand, but she smacked it away with such fierceness that it made him draw back and stare at her. _Well_ , all right then. “I sincerely meant no disrespect, Iza.”

“Too late for that, isn’t it?”

“ _Iza_ ,”

“ _Shut up_. For two seconds of your life, just _shut the hell up_.” A hand went up as if that was going to help silence him and Iza glared up at him viciously. “If you _ever_ so much as picture me in your head like that again, I will go straight to the Council. You can chuck me under the speeder while we’re at it and tell them everything you _think_ you know about me and Catcher and we can _both_ be tossed out. But at least then, I won’t have to look at your sorry face and wonder if you’re thinking about what I look like with that dress all the way off. Am I clear, _Master Kenobi?_ ”

“Crystal.” He answered soberly, giving a look to match.

“Good,” she’d leave it at that before she’d start storming off towards the Temple again. Perhaps threatening him wasn’t the best course of action, but she knew just as well as everyone else that Obi-Wan’s personal image was his lifeline. He lived and breathed the Jedi Code and if anyone so much as suspected that he might have strayed away from that for even a second, it would tarnish the reputation he’d built for himself. It wasn’t the kind of blackmail she wanted to use against him, but at least she had _something_ now. If it should ever come to light to him that there was something going on between Iza and Catcher, she had something to hold over his head that would keep him from running to the Council.

 _Thank the stars_. It was just the kind of leverage she’d needed to help her sleep a little easier at night.

~*~*~*~

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t go, you know,” Catcher mumbled against Iza’s bare shoulder, trailing calloused fingertips along the swell of her hip. The two had snuck away for the evening, deciding to stay overnight in a hostel deep in the slums of Coruscant. The further away from the Temple they could get, the better.

“I know,” leaning her head back against his chest, the brunette sighed heavily and tore her eyes away from the neon light pouring in through the parted blinds, watching him trace invisible patterns over her skin. “I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to go, too.”

“You said the alternative wasn’t any better,” his lips brushed the top of her ear, raising goosebumps on the back of her neck and making her shiver. “What is it?”

“Training with Master Windu. But you know how he is about that,” finally turning over to face him, she nestled up against his chest and began tracing shapes of her own. “I’d be taken off-planet. We wouldn’t see each other at all.”

“I could probably convince him that he’d need Trooper assistance.” Brushing the hair off of Iza’s face, Catcher smiled at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You know he doesn’t go anywhere without at least two of us these days.”

“I _can’t_ , Catcher. I don’t want to do any of this— _at all_ —but it’s my duty as a Jedi to—”

“To suck up to the Council, I know,” chuckling at her affectionately, the Clone played with the bit of hair that still hadn’t quite grown out all the way. “We all have our duties, sweetheart.”

“And what about you? Has Commander Cody said what he’s going to do with you, yet?”

“Mmm,” suddenly, Catcher looked like he didn’t want to continue this conversation. His dark eyes shifted away from hers, finding a piece of furniture to stare at in the dark room. The silence didn’t last very long before Iza was nudging him.

“Catch?”

“I’ll be shipping back out while you’re gone. I was trying to find the right time to tell you.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Iza did her best to let it out slowly and brace herself. “Which unit?”

“501st. General Skywalker’s unit.”

_Anakin, you kriffing lifesaver._

“Well,” she smiled a little and leaned up to kiss the scar beneath his chin. “At least I suppose I can breathe a bit easier. I know that Captain Rex will keep his eye on you for me—Anakin, too.”

Squinting at her, Catcher tilted his head and knit his brows in light confusion. “What’s that mean?”

“What’s what mean?”

“That bit about General Skywalker?”

Grimacing, Iza almost wished she hadn’t said anything at all. Part of her wanted to just kiss him and make him forget that she’d spoken—she was getting good at that—but it was probably best to just be honest with him about it. “Anakin… _knows_.”

“What do you mean he _knows_ , Little Bit?”

“Remember how we were having a hard time getting that closet door open?”

“Yeah. I’m still pretty certain you short-circuited it with these tricky little fingers of yours.” Picking her hand up, Catcher gave a playful nip to the ends of Iza’s fingers and smirked before cocking a brow. “Are you going to tell me General Skywalker had something to do with it?”

“He told me that he kept people from going down that hall. I don’t know how and I didn’t ask.” Smoothing one of her fingers over his bottom lip, she smiled wider and shrugged. “But he’s been a real big help to me. I’m glad to hear he’s willing to extend that help to you as well.”

Humming thoughtfully, the Clone kissed the pad of the finger pressed against his mouth and then leaned up to steal a proper one from her lips. “Me too. But I have a _horrible_ feeling I’m about to be subjected to some serious _osik_ from that boy.”

“ _Language_ ,” nipping his bottom lip, Iza grinned at the growl she’d earned from him and snickered. “You kiss me with that mouth.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled her beneath him and buried his face in her neck, careful to be mindful of the marks he was leaving behind. Thank the Stars they’d remembered the bacta spray. “I’ll do a lot more with this mouth if you don’t watch it, Little Bit.”

“Promise?”

Picking his head up to stare at her with fire absolutely blazing in his eyes, Catcher inhaled sharply as the smaller woman shifted around beneath him, eliciting another heavy growl from his throat when she skimmed her thighs up alongside his hips and shot him that damned innocent look she’d perfected just to torment him.

“Wicked little brat you are,” he huffed, biting at her shoulder, shaking his head. “Taunting me, as if I won’t step up to a challenge,” tutting, Catcher wagged a finger at her and then caught her chin between forefinger and thumb. “I accept your challenge, Jedi Tacor, and offer one of my own.”

“I’m listening,”

“Stay quiet,” he grinned outright, stealing a deep kiss that he dragged down her jaw to the side of her neck, chuckling low before nipping at her clavicle. “And maybe don’t tear my hair out this time.”

~*~*~*~

Iza was so _bored_.

It didn’t matter how many datapads she’d brought with her to read or how long she spent meditating and ignoring Obi-Wan, she just couldn’t manage to get herself out of the grey funk leaving Catcher behind had put her in. At least this time around she knew that he would be safe. Anakin and Captain Rex would be with him, and she knew that he’d be watched carefully. That put her anxiety to rest—at least a little—but she couldn’t help noticing how strangely empty the shuttle felt without his presence.

She hadn’t spoken to Master Kenobi since the incident in Coruscant, but she suspected she would have to sooner rather than later, given that they were going to have to come up with a plan. She still didn’t know a lot about the man she was supposed to draw the attention of, and she would have to ready herself for having to parade herself around in that stupid dress in front of the elder Jedi. Hopefully he’d be able to keep his sick mind in check so that she wouldn’t fall victim to the Seppie if something happened and their cover was blown.

“Iza,” speak of the bastard. “Can we talk?”

Grumbling from her spot on the floor of the passenger room she’d shut herself in, the young Jedi leaned over to remove the scrambler she’d used to lock her door, haphazardly slapping her palm down on the button to let him in.

“I guess,” did she have a choice? She kept her eyes on the datapad she had been skimming through, watching from the corner of her eye as Kenobi’s boots crossed the floor and came to a stop beside her. Much to her utter dismay, he sat down and crossed his legs, looking around the room curiously.

“I just thought I’d let you know we’re nearly there, and we’re going to have to start behaving less like… _this_ —” he gestured between them, “—and more like a couple.”

Iza scoffed, almost throwing the datapad off to the side before turning away. She’d nearly forgotten about that part of the job. Scratch that—she’d _purposely_ wanted to forget that part of the job.

“If you’re still unsure about how—”

“Are you sure _I’m_ the one who needs guidance?” She snapped, bracing her palms on her knees. “Clearly, all I need to do is put on something that would make a Twi’lek look fully clothed and that’s all it takes to get a man to crumble.”

“Your attitude is what needs work,” he sounded like he was trying not to lose his temper with her, his eyes giving away just how irritated she was making him.

“Some men like a challenge.” _Oh_ , she should not have said that the way she did. It’d earned her a quick raise of the brow and she felt him reaching along their Bond, only to find she’d blocked him off from anything damning. “Having fun?”

Looking a bit sheepish over being caught, he straightened in his spot and sobered himself. “Be that as it may, this man is _extremely_ dangerous. You’d be wise to be a little less mouthy with him than you are with me.”

“Fine.” Okay, she’d agree to that, but only because she’d be without a weapon and didn’t think it’d be smart to go showing off to everyone in the place that she was a Jedi if and when all hell broke loose. “But I think I can handle the rest just fine.”

“And your attitude towards me must change. I won’t ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but you’re going to have to trust me, Iza. We have to walk and talk and behave as though we’re lovers—”

 _Ugh_.

“—and that means you’re going to have to allow me to be close to you.” He finished, pretending he hadn’t felt the mood of the room change to utter disgust. He wasn’t happy about any of it either, in all honesty. But there weren’t very many other choices floating around the Temple, and Master Windu had offered up his former apprentice like a roast bhillen with claims that she needed more experience in covert missions like this. He’d told Obi-Wan that he trusted him fully to keep Iza safe, so now _that_ was riding on his shoulders along with all of the other stress the girl had been piling on him on her own. Really, if he wasn’t the kind of man he was, Obi-Wan would’ve toppled over into the Dark Side a long time ago.

“Close like _how?_ ” Iza knew she wasn’t going to like the answer he gave her, and her gut was already starting to do flips as she waited for an answer.

Obi-Wan sighed quietly, running his fingers through his hair before turning his hand up. “I’ll need to be allowed to touch you, Iza. Like a lover would.”

“I am _not_ sleeping with you.” Even when he gave her a look of extreme shock, Iza continued, “I don’t care if the guy starts selling Spice to younglings, I will not go _that_ far to keep a cover going.”

“ _Iza_ ,”

“You can keep your hands at a respectable distance from anything you know damn well you shouldn’t be touching anyway,” she swallowed thickly against the bile that crept up her throat, willing herself to keep talking. “You don’t kiss me with an open mouth. I will _bite_ , do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. Get out.”

“Not until you listen to me for a minute,” he wasn’t budging. “I understand you’re upset with me and I cannot apologize enough for what you had to bear witness to from my end in Coruscant, but we cannot go into this fighting like this. We need to work _together_ , Iza. As a team. If one of us is so obviously uncomfortable playing pretend in front of a roomful of strangers, all hell could break loose. Do you understand?”

She nodded, not looking at him.

“If Malkal Winjag isn’t convinced by the display, neither will anyone else be. You need to put aside your upset and cooperate with me, here.” Even if she wasn’t going to face him, Obi-Wan was going to stare her down until it made her uneasy enough to look over at him. “I have already stated that I would not do anything that would make you outright uncomfortable, but you need to be prepared to think on your toes. Things happen, and situations come up where you’ll need to make yourself uncomfortable in order to make the job go smoothly. You’re so willing to dangle yourself in front of a Separatist Spice-dealer before you are to trust _me_ , and **_I’m_** not the one you need to worry about violating you and leaving you for dead.”

Iza didn’t say anything, but at least she appeared to be listening when she absently reached for the ends of her long hair and twisted it around a fingertip, tugging slowly like she hoped he wouldn’t notice. Oh, he saw; Obi-Wan had picked up on the tic a long time ago. Any time she was getting anxious for any reason, Iza liked to tug on her hair. She’d done it while training as a Padawan too, according to Master Windu, always tugging on her braid whenever she was upset over something.

“Now, we can sit here and go back and forth about what you think my motives are going to be if I happen to put my hand on your leg or if I lean in like I’m going to kiss your neck if you want, but I promise you that my mind is going to strictly be on the _job_ and nothing else.” He was a little less aggressive when he spoke this time, but he made sure that the expression on his face was just as serious as ever. “What about you? Where is your mind going to be, Iza?”

She stopped tugging and suddenly felt so _small_ under his gaze. And here she thought Master Windu was the Emperor of Stern Looks. Honestly, she’d hoped her mind would be on Catcher in order to make the whole thing a little bit easier on herself, but now it seemed like she was going to have to fully focus on something else entirely. She’d have to keep a level head and _not_ let this Malkal Winjag get the best of her, or find out who she or Obi-Wan really were. She’d have to trust that there were no ulterior motives to whatever happened with the man she was Bonded to, whether she wanted to or not, and get this job done so they could leave and she could get back to the man she loved.

“On the job, sir,” she answered quietly.

Satisfied, Obi-Wan nodded and moved to stand. “We should be landing within the next half hour. Gather your things and meet me on the main deck.”

“Yes sir,”

“Iza?”

She looked at him expectantly, unblinking.

Obi-Wan sighed and dropped his head for a brief second before clearing his throat. “We’ll be sharing a room at the hotel, for appearances’ sake. You may have the bed.” And then he was walking out of the room, leaving her sitting there among the scattered datapads wondering just what the hell she’d decided to get herself into.


	11. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning ahead for _implied_ assault.

“You look ridiculous.”

Looking up from where he’d been attempting to deal with the closures of the black tunic he’d brought with him, Obi-Wan turned to see Iza standing in that damned dress, hair piled high on her head and an amused sort of look on her face. Her feet were bare, he noticed, and the uncomfortable looking shoes she’d chosen for the evening were parked by the door. Smart girl; save the true discomfort for the very last minute.

Waving a hand at himself, Obi-Wan shrugged. He hadn’t picked this—Anakin had. He thought the trousers were a little too age-inappropriate for him, and this _damned_ tunic would not stay in place. “I feel ridiculous, thank you.”

“You’re not supposed to close it like that,” pointing at the tunic, she watched as his bearded face contorted with confusion.

“Am I supposed to just walk around with it open then?”

“Oh, for _Stars’_ sake,” coming over, Iza brushed Obi-Wan’s hands out of the way and undid all of the work he’d just done, shaking her head as she straightened the long panels of material out and slowly began to wrap one side around his torso. “Hold onto this and tuck some of it into your trousers. I’m not doing it for you.”

Doing as he was told, Obi-Wan just watched as Iza wound the other side around him and brought it around to the front, carefully doing up the closures he’d been struggling with for Force knew how long. When she’d finished, she gave the neckline a little tug and stood back to look at him. “Better. You still look ridiculous, though.”

Laughing shortly when she stepped away from him, Obi-Wan dragged his fingers through his hair and turned to look back into the mirror to figure out some way to try and style it. He fully intended to keep his eyes on himself, but found it nearly impossible to keep from straying to Iza. She wasn’t paying attention to him, too busy reading something on one of the datapads she’d brought with her. Clearing his throat, he straightened and rubbed at his chin. “Where did you learn to put one of these on?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s a wrap-tunic, Obi-Wan. Did you think that Anakin gave you some sort of defective piece of clothing on purpose?”

 _Yes_ , actually, he had.

“They make them for women, too. I used to wear them when I was a Padawan before Master Windu gave me a set of robes like his. I had to earn them.” It sounded harsher than the situation had actually been. Windu had simply promised to present her with the robes she wanted if she could prove that she was ready for them. He likely wouldn’t have been too bothered if she’d come back wearing a sloppily reproduced set, but she’d wanted the real thing, made from the same tailor who’d made his. Iza was more than happy to take the time it’d spent to earn them. “The ones for women usually aren’t tucked in, though.”

“Good to know.” Checking around for the time, he realized that they would be late getting down to the damn nightclub if they kept dawdling. “Get your shoes on, dear. It’s time.”

~*~*~*~

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Iza couldn’t believe that she was in this stuffy, _loud_ nightclub perched atop Obi-Wan’s lap with a drink in one hand while the other lazily played with his hair and gazed at him like he was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen in the cosmos. Every so often, she’d tilt her head for him and giggled when he’d whisper in her ear, usually to tell her where their target was in the room and whether or not he was still watching them.

She couldn’t tell whether Obi-Wan was taking advantage of the situation of the situation or not, but that hand parked on her thigh was getting awful friendly as it occasionally stroked her skin, fingertips tapping along casually to the beat of the music.

She tried to ignore it as she took small sips of her drink—she’d been told not to have more than one and to make it last—and shifted a little, grunting in discomfort. “…your damn lightsaber is right in my back. Did you have to clip it _there?_ ”

“Sorry darling,” he turned to look at her with a fake smile of adoration and brushed a bit of hair off her face. “You’re the best cover for it, I’m afraid.”

“What are you going to do when I get up to go talk to Malkal?”

He shrugged, taking a drink from his own glass. “I suppose I could cover it with my coat,”

“And you’re not afraid of looking even more ridiculous than you already do?” Iza let her fingers trail from his hair to his beard, using her thumb to wipe a stray bit of liquor off the hairs beneath his bottom lip. It was a move that made her want to keel over and die for doing; it felt so disgusting to do any of this knowing that she had Catcher waiting for her somewhere out among the stars.

“My dear, I don’t think anyone else in this place would _blame_ me if I laid my coat over my lap once you got out of it.”

Iza tugged at his beard and shot him a sharp look she quickly masked with a devious look before leaning in to hiss into his ear, “Keep your damn mind on the _job_ , Kenobi. Where’s Malkal?”

“Bar,” Obi-Wan turned to look at her and trailed a fingertip down her cheek affectionately. “Staring right at you.”

“Good.”

“Iza,” he hesitated— _boy_ did he hesitate—and started to slip his fingers around the back of her neck. “I’m going to—”

 _No the **hell** he was not_. Turning her head away from his, Iza carefully stood up from his lap and heard a buzzing of commotion over at the bar. Apparently, the Spice-runner had seen the display. Deciding to give him a little more to watch, she turned on her heel to look down at Obi-Wan. “ _Close your eyes_.”

And then she was throwing what was left of her drink in his face, making him flinch and sputter while a round of howling laughter sounded from the bar. Dropping her empty glass on the cushion beside the elder Jedi, Iza pretended to scoff at him and slowly made her way over to the bar, hips swaying just enough to catch the attention of damn near anyone with working eyes in the joint. She should’ve probably felt bad for doing that, but someone had to cool that man off. Besides, she’d needed a reason to come over here anyway and now she’d found it. Double checking to make sure her comm bracelet was hot, Iza leaned up against the counter and sighed heavily when it looked like the bartender was too busy serving someone else on the other side.

“What are you drinking, beautiful?”

Iza’s whole spine _prickled_ at the low, gravelly tone of the man who’d sidled up alongside her and the strong smell of cigarra smoke that followed him. But she had to remember what they were here for and stick to the damn plan. So, she tilted her head up and smiled real sweet, trying not to flinch as her eyes met a pair of watery, bloodshot grey ones.

“I _was_ drinking a Juri Juice,” shooting a nasty look over her shoulder to see that Obi-Wan had recovered enough to wipe his face down with the sleeve of his tunic, Iza poked her bottom lip out in a pout and propped her chin in her hand. “Now I suppose I’ll just have to order another one.”

“Why don’t you come sit and keep me company for a little while?” Malkal’s greedy eyes looked her over several times, shamelessly lingering on her curved backside instead of meeting her gaze again. “I’ll give you something a little nicer than Juri Juice.”

“What’s that?” She hoped the stupid wrist comm was working. “Do you have more drinks?”

“Oh, I’ve got drinks, babe,” reaching a slender arm out, he hooked it around her waist and pulled her to his side before leading her back towards where he’d been sitting. Patting the seat beside him, Malkal kept his eyes on Iza bare legs while she climbed up on the stool, an almost inhuman sound bubbling in his throat as he watched. “You are _delicious_ ,”

Oh stars above, she was going to hurl. Letting an almost shy smile spread across her lips, Iza ducked her head and started to turn away like his words were making her bashful, only to have him crook a thin finger under her chin and turn her back to face him.

“Now, now, no need to be shy around me,” he drawled, humming as he dragged the tabac stained digit over the scar on her cheek, humming thoughtfully. “You want something strong, pet?”

Why did she agree to this? Why did she agree to doll herself up in this Hutt-ugly dress and allow both Obi-Wan and this sorry excuse for a man to put their hands all over her? She wanted to punch him in his stupid, smelly, yellow teeth and _leave_. She didn’t know where Catcher and the rest of the 501st was at this moment in time but she had a real good feeling that if she sent out the right kind of distress signal, they’d be here at the drop of a kriffing hat. But Iza could only continue to play the dumb, bright-eyed little girl who had no business sitting with a man like this, let alone accepting whatever he was about to offer her.

“Please?” It felt so _wrong_ using that tone with him. She saved that voice for Catcher and Catcher alone.

The filthy excuse for a man beside her let a wicked sort of grin spread across his lips, turning to reach for a dark bottle sitting on the counter. He paid no mind to the bartender as he leaned over to grab a fresh glass from the nearby towering stack, humming to himself while he shook the bottle around a little and cast a quick look at Iza from the corner of his eye. “Home brew. Gets a little sediment at the bottom, but that’s the best part.”

Now Iza was starting to get worried. _Home brew?_ Did that mean he was about to make her drink some sort of Spice-laden booze? Or was it just some kind of backwater liquor that he carried around because he couldn’t catch a buzz off of anything he had to pay for anymore? Her eyes followed the stream of muddy looking liquid as Malkal poured it into the glass—just enough to cover the bottom like a glorified shot—and she almost cringed at the insanely strong smell that followed.

“Oh, should have warned you,” he chuckled, sliding the glass over to her before taking a pop from the mouth of the bottle. “It don’t smell too nice. Might wanna drink that fast, pet.”

The way she saw it, Iza had two choices here. She could take down the shot of alcohol and pray that it didn’t make her as sick as the smell threatened to, or she could smash that glass against the side of his head and really cause some problems for everyone in the room.

 _No_.

It wasn’t her own internal thoughts that kept her from deciding on that plan of action; it was Obi-Wan’s. Casually stealing a glance at him from the corner of her eye while the bastard on the seat next to her was busy putting his bottle away, she saw the elder Jedi give a slow shake of his head. He knew what she was thinking—because of course he did—and she didn’t have any other choice but to keep going with the plan.

 _Bottom’s up_.

She tried not to breathe when she knocked the disgusting liquor back, almost gagging at the burn and the taste. It was like having someone’s dirty laundry water that had been sitting out for _years_ in her mouth. Her body lurched instinctively, trying to get her to expel the foul substance, but Iza managed to keep it down and earned herself a hearty laugh and a hard squeeze to her backside from her companion.

“That’s a _good girl!_ ” He grinned at her wide enough to show that he was missing at least four teeth in his entire mouth, wrapping his arm around her and pulling both Iza and her stool closer to him. Settling his _disturbingly_ long-fingered hand atop her thigh, Malkal growled in satisfaction and allowed himself the freedom of stroking her skin. “Look at all of this pretty flesh you’ve got.” He turned and buried his crooked nose into her hair, but Iza was slowly finding it hard to react to anything. “You’ll be a fun little toy to break…”

Something was very _wrong_. Aside from the fact that the sleazy waistoid was putting his grubby hands where he shouldn’t be, Iza’s head was getting foggier and foggier by the second. She’d tried once to lift an arm, just to see if she could maybe push him off if she wanted to, but nothing had happened. Her body didn’t respond _at all_ and it took a long time before the panic finally set in. He’d drugged her; he’d definitely put something in that kriffing bottle other than homemade booze and whatever it was, he was immune to it. She’d seen him drink from the damn thing—hadn’t she?

“Come on now, pet,” sharp teeth met the outer edge of her ear in a not-so-gentle manner and Iza felt herself being dragged from the stool and made to stand. “I think we should leave before your little friend decides to come back.”

 _Obi-Wan…_ she couldn’t even find the strength to reach out to him across their Bond. She couldn’t even _find_ the Bond anymore. It was like her senses had all been severed at the root and she was truly and utterly alone. Lolling her head to try and see where Obi-Wan might be, she groaned miserably when the whole room spun in a mess of blurry colors and her stomach began to churn. Her feet were moving, but not of their own accord. She was being walked out of the club and she couldn’t even scream in protest or reach out to grab someone and tell them to get help. Twice, she tried dragging her feet against the floor, but it did no good. Malkal was much stronger and just kept pulling her along.

The faces she passed seemed to stare at her and judge her so harshly like they couldn’t believe a girl who looked the way she did was leaving with a scum-sucker like that. Or maybe they thought different; maybe they thought he’d paid for her and was about to get his money’s worth, and those looks were all meant to be of disgust.

 _She should be ashamed of herself_ , they were saying, _she’s probably such a disappointment to her family_.

As the cool night air hit her face and her captor began to haul her down the busy walkpath, Iza thought helplessly about Catcher and how much she needed him in that moment. _Force_ , she couldn’t keep her eyes open and each time they slid shut, a fresh round of tears streaked down her cheeks. Vaguely, she could feel herself being lifted, then shoved up against something that was unforgiving to the back of her head. Something was pulling on her hair, her dress, her skin; the sound of something ripping made her want to scream, if not for the heavy hand clamped over her mouth.

Her head spun viciously as she was yanked away from the hard surface, twirled, then slammed forward hard enough to bruise the spot on her face that met the solid surface. Something warm and wet trickled down her chin and the coppery taste told her it was blood. Funny; she couldn’t recall when she’d split her lip. Soon, there was a weight against her back and a heavy voice in her ear saying things she couldn’t understand. It was all garbled and muffled gibberish that failed to translate.

All at once, Iza was aware that the weight on her back had been ripped away and she was left slumped and shivering on the stone surface she’d been propped against. Something was happening behind her, some kind of commotion. A bright blue light shone on the wall in front of her bleary eyes and there was a lot of yelling before the distinct smell of plasma-singed flesh filled the air. Her stomach turned on her then and there and Iza could only fall to the pavement as she was sick over and over.

That blue light went out and she felt hands on her shoulders, gentle and concerned as they tried to help lift her from her spot and away from her puddle of sick. Something was swiped across her mouth and she could hear the muffled sound of someone talking in her ear, but she still couldn’t understand it. She was being wrapped in something warm and heavy and lifted into a pair of arms that felt so familiar she wouldn’t have bothered fighting if she could. The chest she was propped against was rumbling like the owner of those arms was talking and she suddenly had a strange flashback to being ice cold and in terrible pain while a stranger carried her to safety.

 _Obi-Wan_.

Even now she still couldn’t get the damn Bond link to open, and she was far too tired to keep trying anymore. She wanted to sleep, because if she slept it would mean that she’d be one day closer to going home to see Catcher. She could be one day closer to getting her light back and leaving this miserable, dark hell.

~*~*~*~

He had been such a _fool_ to leave the main room of the nightclub. What good was a better vantage point if he had to take his eyes off of Iza in order to get to it? At first, Obi-Wan had wanted to be angry with her for accepting that disgusting bugslut’s personal stash, but he just _couldn’t_ , because _he_ had been the one to insist she drink it. _He_ had been the one charged with her safety and he’d failed. He’d failed _her_ , he’d failed her Master, and he’d failed the whole cosmos, as far as he was concerned.

Besides, Iza had just been doing what she’d been told to do— _the job_. How the hell was he supposed to find a way to turn fault on her for that? Her job had been to get close to Malkal, but the bastard had just been too slick and sleazy for either of them to comprehend. If he was working for Count Dooku, he sure as hell wasn’t bragging about it. It seemed to Obi-Wan that he was just a scum-sucking backwater bumpkin who’d decided to slip into the Inner Rim and stir things up. Even Count Dooku had too much pride to deal with the likes of a barve like that.

 _Stars above_ , he couldn’t stop reliving it. He’d only been gone for a minute to change seats when she’d disappeared completely. No visual, all static on the comm, and a sick coldness in his chest that made him feel oddly empty; someone had shut off her ability to use the Force and they’d done it fast. Knowing that Iza hadn’t done a damn thing to let on that she was a Jedi in disguise, the idea of Force blocking cuffs had been completely off the table. The only answer he’d been able to think of was that the hooch Malkal had served her was either strong enough to put down an entire army, or he’d spiked it.

Losing sight of her had set off a panic he hadn’t felt in a _long_ time and he’d wasted absolutely no time trying to figure out just where she and the slob had gone. He must’ve looked frantic enough because a group of younger club goers asked if he knew the _pretty girl in the green_ and when he’d confirmed he did, one of them pointed out where Malkal had taken her. One of the girls had a sad look in her eye when she’d directed him to the alley, but she hadn’t said anything else other than _good luck_.

He hadn’t needed luck.

All Obi-Wan had needed was to see the young Jedi doped out of her mind, pinned to the side of a building by that behemoth. That’d been enough for him to lose it and charge forward. He’d only drawn the lightsaber after Malkal had taken a few good punches, and he’d beheaded the bastard without a second thought. It had been a combination of being forced to watch that wretch put his filthy hands all over her in the bar while listening to the things he said over the comm, and knowing that Iza’s innocence had been at stake. _Cosmos’ End_ , the thought that she’d nearly been defiled by that slythmonger had been enough to make him see red and kill him instead of arrest him like he was supposed to.

Well, if the Council had a problem with the way he’d handled things then he would gladly take that strike to his perfect record. There’d been _no way_ he could just stand there and let any of that happen. Absolutely no way.

Poor Iza had been sleeping ever since. He’d called a medical droid up to their room to keep an eye on her vitals and had been reassured that whatever narcotic had been slipped to her would wear off within a few hours.

Until then, he’d been left to sit there and ponder what the hell he was supposed to say to her when she woke up. He wouldn’t blame her in the slightest if her first reaction was to try and kill him. He’d deserve it, honestly. Dragging her here, putting her in that dress and dangling her like bait in front of a man that he’d _known_ would likely try something like this? Practically _ordering_ her to drink the tainted hooch? Yeah—he was pretty sure he’d want to get a few good licks in if he were in her shoes, too.

“ _Obi-Wan?!_ ”

Iza’s terrified voice had him jolting up from the chair he’d been sitting in for hours, tripping over his own two feet to get behind the partition wall that separated the front of the suite from the bed area. Sitting up in the center of the large bed, looking like hell warmed over with her bruised face and sleep tousled hair, the younger Jedi stared at him with blatant fear in her green eyes. That look made his heart hurt but he didn’t dare take another step closer uninvited.

“Iza?” he wasn’t sure if she was even fully awake.

Looking at her surroundings, the brunette squeezed her eyes shut and blew out a breath, covering her mouth with a hand. He wasted no time grabbing a bin from nearby, coming up to the side of the bed to kneel and hand it over so she could be sick. But Iza only gripped the sides of the metal bin and stared at him for a long time, occasionally lurching like she might be sick, though nothing ever came of it. Finally, that broken, bruised lip of hers began to wobble and her face screwed up, hands coming up to cover her face in… _shame?_

“I’m **_sorry_**!” she wailed, the sound barely muffled by her palms. “ _I’m so sorry!_ ”

The bin was on the floor in an instant as Obi-Wan found himself tossing it out of the way to make room so he could have somewhere to sit, pulling Iza into his arms and shaking his head.

“No, no, no, darling, _no_ ,” he didn’t know how to soothe her, didn’t know how to get rid of the blazing ache of pain in his chest. Was it hers? Or was it his? Threading his fingers into her hair, he set his chin atop her head and rocked her slowly, gently shushing her and wishing to the stars that he’d never taken her on this mission. He should have left her with her Clone where he could keep an eye on her and she could be happy and remain blissfully ignorant to the universe’s more disgusting horrors. “ _I’m_ sorry, Iza. I’m so sorry, my darling girl,”

He felt her bury herself against his chest and just about shattered right there on the bed at the sobs that wracked her frame. It had been so unfair to expect this to go the right way; they should’ve had back up and he felt even more a fool for having declined it now. He just thought they could do this as a team, that they’d be able to put aside their crap for one night and get something done _together_. So much for that.

“I want to go home!” her desperate sounding sob was muffled by the dark tunic he still wore and Obi-Wan grunted when she smacked his shoulder to drive her point home. “ _I want to go **home** , Master!_”

“We will go home,” he said softly, nodding as he looked around the room and held her tighter before shutting his eyes against a stinging dampness that hadn’t been there before. “I will **never** ask you to do this again, Iza. I promise. _I promise._ ”


	12. Lost in Darkness

Obi-Wan had gotten in contact with Anakin long before he had bothered calling the Council, knowing full well his former apprentice would be more than happy to swing by and pick the two of them up, but he hadn’t said anything about the mission. It wasn’t any of Anakin’s business how it’d gone; that information was for the Council, and _only_ if Iza gave him permission to share it. The two of them had gone over the plan for what they _would_ tell the Council when they got back to Coruscant, but Iza was still very hesitant about admitting to Master Windu that she’d nearly been assaulted by Malkal Winjag. She was also hesitant in telling the Council that Obi-Wan had instructed her to go along with drinking the concoction that had put her in the situation in the first place, not wanting to incriminate him and paint a target on his back.

The whole thing was just a giant kriffing mess that neither of them wanted to deal with just yet, so hitching a ride with Anakin and his crew to take the long way around was just _easier_.

Of course, Iza herself was scared half to death about what Catcher was going to say. Her face was purple from the lip down, and there was a nasty bump on her forehead. He was going to know that _something_ happened, and he’d likely realize that it wasn’t anything _good_ if he tried to get too close to her. _Force_ , this had really put a dent in things, hadn’t it? She couldn’t wait to get back to Coruscant and take a few weeks off from all of this; she was going to insist on keeping Catcher with her, too. If anyone tried to argue, she would just have to tell them and if they still argued, she supposed that she’d just have to walk out of that Temple and _leave_.

Few things in life could’ve ever made her want to stop being a Jedi, but being disallowed a friend for comfort purposes during a time like this? That was definitely grounds for her to walk and she didn’t really care what anyone else thought about it.

“They’ll be here in a moment,” Obi-Wan’s quiet voice nudged her out of her thoughts as he got to his feet. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” grabbing the bag that held her extra change of robes and the load of datapads she’d dragged along with her, Iza followed him out to where they could see Anakin’s starship slowly starting to descend. Already, the loading ramp was starting to unfold and she could see the taller Jedi smiling at them from just inside, Ahsoka at his side waving frantically. Suddenly, Iza felt a rush of hot panic in her chest when a familiar form came into view. “ _Oh_ ,”

“Iza,” looking over at her, Obi-Wan watched as she clutched a literal handful of her hair and pulled so hard he thought she might yank it out of her head. “ _Iza!_ ”

“I can’t!” Shaking her head, she braced her hands on his arms when he’d come over to stop her, sounding so out of breath and weak. “I can’t tell him!”

“Take it easy,” searching her face for some sign as to what might’ve caused the sudden onslaught of hysteria in the younger woman, Obi-Wan bit his tongue and pushed across their Bond to blindly find the source and cut it off. “You’re okay, you hear me? You’re safe. You don’t have to tell anyone anything you don’t want to.”

“Master?” Anakin’s curious voice had both of them looking over to see him strolling over with Ahsoka and Catcher in tow, the latter decked in full armor with a blaster at the hip but no helmet.

“It’s all right Anakin,” offering a tight smile, Obi-Wan straightened and gave Iza a little nudge to get her to start walking, but she wouldn’t budge. “We’re both just a bit tired.”

Her eyes were locked on Catcher, whose features were reasonably neutral aside from the way he was staring at the bruises she sported. There was a moment when his dark eyes flicked from her face to Obi-Wan, and then back to her, but Iza shook her head and pressed her lips together tightly, trembling visibly.

“Iza?” Ahsoka’s voice was soft as she approached the other girl, blue eyes full of worry. Something was _very_ wrong with her friend. Reaching out, she set a gentle hand on Iza’s back only to have her flinch and pull away violently.

“ ** _DON’T!_** ”

Dropping her bag on the tarmac, Iza covered her mouth with both hands and stared back at the others. No, she really couldn’t do this, could she? She couldn’t return to the Temple in this sad, sorry state. It didn’t matter that she could feel Obi-Wan reaching across their Bond to try and soothe her, or that she’d been waiting so long to see Catcher again that her whole being just _ached_ to sit and be alone with him; she was going to suffocate and die if she had to get on that ship.

 _Stars_ , she was getting so dizzy; this planet didn’t have enough oxygen. She was going to black out at this rate if she was forced to stand here much longer.

“Little Bit,”

Catcher’s voice brought her back to the present and she found him crouched in front of her, one hand extended for her to take. His face was full of patience as he waited to see whether or not she’d take it and it was almost like everyone else had already gone inside to wait. Swallowing the sick that had started to creep up her throat, Iza hesitated for a long moment before finally slipping her fingers into Catcher’s palm, grateful for the warmth even if it had to be felt through the armor.

“There you go,” he said softly, waving at her with his free hand to beckon her closer. “Come here to me, sweetheart.”

She didn’t hesitate this time, closing the distance between them in two quick steps and throwing her arms around his neck with a horrible sounding sob.

“I’ve got you,” standing to his full height again, Catcher was careful as he lifted her and tucked an arm beneath Iza’s backside to hold her like a child, unable to keep himself from kissing the side of her head in full view of the trio beside them. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you, Little Bit.”

Turning to start carrying her inside, Catcher paused and looked over at Anakin. “General, permission to—”

“Anything,” there was a darkness to Anakin’s tone that just about collectively chilled the group to their cores, though his features were more sympathetic than anything else. “Whatever you need. Whatever she needs.”

“Thank you, Sir,” with a solemn nod, Catcher headed slowly into the ship holding Iza tightly to his chest, leaving the others on the tarmac to watch them go.

Once they were out of earshot, Anakin turned back to his Master and fixed him with a hard look. “Who did that to her?”

“I can’t talk about it, Anakin,” moving to pick up Iza’s fallen bag, the elder Jedi heaved a sigh, knowing that Anakin wasn’t going to enjoy that answer in the slightest. “Please understand that this is a personal matter and Iza has requested that I—”

“For the love of the Force, Obi-Wan!” gesturing behind him, Anakin’s upper lip curled over his teeth. “Are you worried _at all_? Because you are _awfully_ calm for someone toting around a girl who reacts like _that_ when she’s touched.”

“It’s **_my_** fault, all right?!” Obi-Wan spit out, finally. “Is that what you want to hear? It’s _my_ fault. I put her in danger. I made a call I shouldn’t have made and I got her hurt.” Licking his lips as he tried to steady his breathing and gather himself—outbursts like that really weren’t his _thing_ —the elder Jedi almost refused to look at the other two in his company. “Please, feel free to keep rubbing it in for both of us.”

Without another word, Obi-Wan marched his way to the ship, unwilling to stick around and keep talking. The next time he spoke about what had happened, he wanted it to be in front of the Council and he wanted it to be with Iza’s express permission. He would not be bullied into telling anyone else the horrible way they’d failed their mission.

~*~*~*~

“How you doing, Little Bit?” Catcher asked quietly as he played with a lock of Iza’s hair, tilting his head to see whether or not she’d managed to stop crying yet. He sat propped against the wall on top of a bed in one of the private chambers with Iza cuddled against his chest. He’d taken the upper half of his armor plates off to make things a little more comfortable for them both and let her cry into the thick material of the under-armor for as long as she needed to. He wouldn’t ask any invasive questions; he really didn’t feel like he had the right. Besides, he’d seen that look before. Some of his Brothers who just weren’t cut out for battle, or who’d seen things that spooked them to their cores wore that look. He didn’t have to ask to know that something very bad had happened while she was away from him, but that wouldn’t stop him from being angry about the fact that he hadn’t been there to stop it.

She’d grunted at him in response, shifting around to her other side to rest her cheek somewhere that wasn’t soaked with tears. After a moment or so of silence, she looked up at him wearily.

“You haven’t asked,”

Shaking his head, he bowed and lightly brushed his lips over the bruise on her forehead. “Not my place, sweetheart.”

Well, she hadn’t expected _that_ out of him. She supposed she should’ve known better, though. Catcher had always been careful with her—as careful as he could be, anyway—and didn’t like upsetting her if he could help it. Even when they’d first met and started becoming friends, he never said or did anything to purposefully make her upset and always apologized if his actions _had_ caused her grief. Even when he’d left, he hadn’t _meant_ to hurt her. So, _no_ ; she shouldn’t have been surprised that he didn’t want to dredge up the terrible thing still fresh in her mind. Because this was Catcher, and Catcher was a good man.

“I didn’t…” drawing in a breath, she let it out slowly and took his hand in hers, squeezing his fingers tight as she hesitated to continue. “…I couldn’t do anything.”

“Hey,” tightening his arms around her, Catcher felt like her words were beginning to suck the air out of the room. “Iza, you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“But it’s _my fault_ ,”

 _Stars_ , he almost crushed her against him when she said that and knocked the wind out of them both. His free hand came up to curl against the back of her head to cradle it as he began shaking his own. “No, it’s not.”

“But—”

He had to kiss her to silence her, not wanting to hear anything else about it. The way she tensed in his arms almost broke his heart, but he eased back as not to cause further discomfort. The last thing he wanted was for her to fear him.

“Don’t say things like that, Little Bit,” the Clone whispered, resting his forehead to hers as his eyelids slid shut. “Please, don’t say things like that.”

That was twice now she’d been told not to put all the blame on herself. But Iza couldn’t see how it _wasn’t_ her fault. She’d fully ignored Obi-Wan’s warning about the man and allowed herself to be pulled out of his line of sight. She’d taken the bait, swallowed the shot—albeit with Obi-Wan’s blessing—and did nothing to try and save herself. They could all argue with her about the drink being spiked and that nobody could have predicted that the mission would go the way it had, especially not when she and Obi-Wan had spent so long planning it out.

But that was just it; they’d had a _plan_. She’d been told not to take a damn thing from him _because_ of something like this, and yet…

“Stop,” the back of a crooked finger began stroking down Iza’s cheek as warm lips pressed to her forehead again. “I can feel every ounce of doubt in you, I hope you know. I don’t need to be one of you Force-sensitives to do that.”

“I know,” the weakest of smiles lifted the corners of her bruised lips. “You _know things_.”

“Yes I do,” nosing at her hair, the Clone heaved a sigh and cautiously skimmed his hand along her back. Letting silence fill the room once more, the two seemed pretty content to just stay snuggled together like that. Occasionally, Iza would turn her face towards Catcher’s chest and give a shudder and he’d feel dampness spread in a single spot in his under-armor. But he’d only continue to hold her to him and whisper soothing words, playing with her hair or peppering kisses to the parts of her face still exposed to him. It was really no surprise that they soon fell asleep like that, fit together like they were always meant to be that way; like perfect fitting puzzle pieces in the jumbled mess of the cosmos.

~*~*~*~

“I don’t want to,” Iza felt sick as she stood near the offload ramp of the ship while it descended, leaning on Catcher for support. “I don’t want to go in there.”

“Iza,” Obi-Wan had been as patient as he could with her the last couple of days, allowing her to spend as much time alone with Catcher as she needed and giving her all the space and privacy along their Bond as possible. But they were back on Coruscant now, getting ready to arrive at the Temple, and he needed her to put on a braver face than the one she wore. “We don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t want to talk to them.” Not the entire Council; she would settle for just Master Windu, if possible.

“Again, we don’t have a choice.”

Opening her mouth to continue protesting, Iza closed it when she felt the press of a hand on her lower back. Brief as it was, she took Catcher’s restraining gesture for what it was and shut up. Steeling herself as the ramp lowered, she set her jaw and tried not to let her expression falter when she saw Master Windu and Grand Master Yoda standing at the receiving dock, hands patiently tucked behind their backs.

“You gotta go, Little Bit,” he gave Iza a quick tap to the heel of her boot with his toe to get her moving; Catcher seemed to hold his breath when she refused. Glancing to the side to see what his comrades and everyone else on board was doing, he licked his lips and stepped forward, knocking his shoulder into hers. “Come on,”

She finally started to walk then with him just a few paces behind her, looking for all the universe like a simple bodyguard. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was all he was.

As she approached Master Windu, Iza felt her shame start to grow and no amount of silent suppression from Obi-Wan’s end could do anything to stop it. She’d failed her Master twice now; she didn’t know if she’d get a third chance to redeem herself. The closer she got, the harder it became to keep her composure and if the look on her Master’s face was anything to go by, he could sense her distress as though it were his own. Dark eyes burned into her glassy green ones and she felt the distinct _pinch_ of him disconnecting Obi-Wan’s link. It would be temporary, but it flooded her with a strange sense of relief to know that she could be alone with her thoughts for at least a short while.

“Grand Master Yoda,” Windu spoke suddenly, causing Iza to start. “I’d like a word with Jedi Tacor before the debriefing.”

The squat, green being studied the two for a long moment with an almost neutral look on his face before nodding slowly. “Use the High Council Chamber, you may. Privacy, you seek.”

“Thank you, sir,” giving a wave of his hand to Iza, he waited until she’d started walking and then held the same hand up to stop Catcher from following. “Not you, Trooper. You can wait here.”

“Yes sir,” Catcher nodded as professionally as possible, hanging back as he watched the two Jedi disappear into the Temple. Unsure of what to do with himself now, the Clone felt his shoulders sag slightly and jerked when a hand clamped down over one of them, looking to see Anakin standing alongside him.

“C’mon,” the young Jedi murmured, jerking his head down towards the city. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

~*~*~*~

Iza could hardly keep still as she followed Master Windu through the Temple up to the highest tower, settling for twisting and pulling at her tabard instead of her hair. She just _had_ to put it up today, didn’t she? In some poor attempt to make herself look less like a withered mess, she’d twisted it up too high and couldn’t even discreetly pull a lock free.

“Settle down,” again she flinched at the sound of her Master’s deep voice. “You’re safe here, Tacor.”

Everybody kept telling her that and yet, she still felt like something was going to jump out at her from behind a pillar and—

“If you don’t stop that, I’m not going to be able to help you.” Looking back over his shoulder at her, Windu’s voice sounded more concerned than anything. “Center yourself, Jedi.”

She did her best to take the time and try to calm herself, feeling him offer an attempt to help along their Bond. At first, she’d nearly rejected it; so used to shutting Obi-Wan out that it had almost become instinct to slap back at the pressure invading her head. But Master Windu was much more powerful than she and had no patience for this. She felt his silent influence start to calm her nerves enough to at least keep her heartrate at a normal pace, and for the first time in what felt like weeks her lungs opened enough to breathe deep the way he’d taught her to.

The walk to the High Council Chamber seemed to pass much faster after that and once inside, Windu gestured for Iza to take a seat in the place he normally occupied. Once she had, he stood in front of her to study her for a long time, silently searching her face more than her mind. After what felt like an eternity, he heaved a sigh and lowered his head, giving it a shake.

“Kenobi should have brought you to me sooner,” _no_ , Kenobi should have been honest about Iza’s current condition. He would never have let him leave with his former apprentice if he’d known how close to a Fall she was.

“Master?”

“I’m sorry, Iza,” rarely did he ever call her by her first name. It was just one of those _things_ he’d decided was too personal to do. “But I’m going to have to remove you from Master Kenobi’s company. You are in a very delicate state and I cannot risk—”

“Am I going to Fall?”

The ever-stoic Jedi Master nearly flinched at the way those words came out of her mouth. It was like she’d become that twelve-year-old youngling he’d picked from the bunch when she was still bright-eyed and all too eager to impress. But he could see clear as day that the light in her eyes—in her very soul—had been slowly dimming since she’d been brought back from the mission he should never have sent her on in the first place. The one Kenobi had been sent to recover her from. And now, as he stood here before her, he could see that _something_ had happened to steal even more of that light.

It terrified him to think that one more tiny push might just take her over that edge into a place she couldn’t return from. He could help her to harness what she had brewing inside of her, but if she chose to let the Darkness overcome her then he’d be useless to her. He would have failed her as her Master.

“No.” It wasn’t a lie; he wasn’t going to allow it to happen. But even as he said it, Windu could feel that she didn’t quite believe him. He could also sense that there was something she wanted to tell him, some sort of secret that gnawed at her so deep that it made his gut turn over. Just _what_ had happened while she was away from the Temple?

Sensing the question in him, Iza lowered her gaze to his boots and gripped the knees of her leggings until her knuckles turned white. It all came flooding back in a rush of blurry images; the bar, the noise, being in Obi-Wan’s lap—then it skipped to the encounter with Malkal and that horrible decision she’d made to listen to her partner and drink the tainted hooch. Nausea welled up in her when she saw herself being dragged from the club and out into the street past unsuspecting on-lookers. And then the alley—that cold, cursed alley. She could practically hear the seams of that dress tearing again before the sensation of a hand coming to rest against her head snapped her out of it and she found herself staring back up at Master Windu through tear-blurred eyes.

“That’s enough,” his tone lacked any sort of warmth or sympathy as he looked down at her, focusing his eyes on hers intently. She swore she felt a pulse like a prolonged heartbeat radiate from the palm he had centered in the middle of her forehead, but wasn’t too sure.

What was enough? What was he talking about? Why was she crying? Why did she feel like she was going to throw up all over the carpet?

“Master?” Searching her mind did little good. She couldn’t remember what they’d just been talking about.

“Get yourself cleaned up, Jedi Tacor.” He looked as stern as ever, waving her out of his seat. “You’ll be meeting with the rest of the Council soon.”

“Yes sir,”

“We will discuss plans for your further training after you’ve gotten some rest.”

“Yes sir,”

“Jedi Tacor,”

Pausing in the middle of scrubbing her tears off on the sleeve of her robe, Iza looked up expectantly, “Yes, Master Windu?”

“Tell Master Kenobi I’d like to speak with him privately before the meeting.”

“In here?”

Shaking his head, the bald man turned to look out of the large window overlooking the view of Coruscant. “No. I think it’s best we speak somewhere a little less… _cordial_.”

~*~*~*~

In the coming days, Iza adjusted to life back at the Temple and to the strange looks she’d get on occasion from Obi-Wan when he’d pass her in the halls. She’d wondered for a little while what it was that he and her Master had spoken about, but ultimately decided that it was none of her business. Master Windu was allowed his secrets, same as she. Honestly, it was nice to be back at home where she could wander the gardens at her leisure and pester Catcher when he was in the barracks. He’d acted a little funny around her too for a little while, but that had soon waned and he seemed to be just as sweet on her as ever.

Although, she found it a little weird how he _kept_ asking if she was comfortable whenever they were intimate with one another. He eventually stopped asking when she snapped at him over it, though he claimed that he’d just _wanted to be sure_.

What a silly thing to say to the woman he’d been sleeping with for over two months.

The two of them needed to be _extra_ careful here, though. Trying to sneak around in a place full of Jedi was not a smart thing to do, especially when Iza was Bonded to two of them. Although, she’d noticed a distinct lack of _nudging_ from Obi-Wan’s end lately. Maybe that was what Master Windu had discussed with him. Maybe he’d seen just how much stress locking the other Jedi out had put on her and he’d ordered him to back off. _Thank the stars_.

“You’re not concentrating, Tacor,” Master Windu’s tone was firm as he stood somewhere in the garden, watching as she meditated on a million different thoughts at once.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, sir,” well, it was true. All he’d told her was that he wanted her to sit there and reach for something. He never told her what that _something_ was.

“You will know when you find it. _Concentrate_.”

Sitting up a little straighter, Iza forced the more intrusive things out of her mind, tossing out anything that felt too irrelevant to sit and stew in. There was a little prod to the back of her mind that she became acutely aware of and immediately, she threw up her shields around everything.

“ _Concentrate,_ ”

“Master,” she didn’t want him poking around without permission. He _never_ poked around without permission. “I can’t,”

“Of course you can,” he was walking around her now; she could hear his boots on the gravel. “Never tell me you can’t do something, Tacor.”

Breathing through her nose, she tried to focus. If she could get these sacred thoughts out of his line of sight, she’d be fine. But no—he just kept _poking_. It was when he’d started getting a little too close to her thoughts about Catcher that she lashed out.

“ ** _GET OUT!_** ” A hot sort of rage boiled in her veins, spreading to her fingertips as she blindly pinpointed his location and pushed a hand out. All of that hot energy seemed to collect in one place before she willed it to shove him back, probably a little harder than she meant to. Opening her eyes at the pained sound that followed the Jedi Master’s body hitting the gravel, she sat there heaving for a few seconds before cold shock replaced the anger and she scrambled to get up and rush to him.

Windu was fine. A little grumbly from hitting the ground so hard, but otherwise unharmed. Sitting up in the dirt as the girl ran up to him, he fixed her with a hard look and pointed a finger up at her. “ _That_ —that right there,” grunting, he pulled himself to his feet, refusing her offered help, “That is what we’re here to work on. Whatever you’ve got going on in that head of yours… it’s crucial you understand how to use it.”

“What?” She watched him shake the dust out of his robes, dumbfounded. “But sir, you said—”

“I told you I would teach you when the time came,” he corrected, narrowing his eyes before pointing at where she’d been sitting. “Now, unless you want to continue denying you’ve got anything pent up in there, I suggest you sit back down. This isn’t going to be easy, and it won’t be _fun_. But you will need to open your trust back up to me, Jedi Tacor. I will not let you Fall, do you understand me?" Moving to brush past her, he muttered under his breath—more to himself than to her,

"Not on my damn watch.”


	13. A Sacred Sin

Time seemed to pass so much slower here, as though the peacefulness of the Temple didn’t need _time_ to exist within it at all. But the longer Iza worked with Master Windu, the more she noticed that things around her seemed to be changing. The first shift had been in her energy; the dark grey that had been clouding her head for so long now coexisted alongside her light with little issue, even complimenting it at times. The second had been the weight she’d put on and the almost insatiable appetite she had for the _strangest_ of foods. Things she never would have touched in a million lightyears she’d shove into her mouth like she couldn’t get enough of it. It was around the time she’d started getting a strange craving for fried bloodrat that she knew something had to be _very_ wrong with her.

“I think I’m sick,” she told Catcher during one of their casual strolls through the garden, looking up at him with her nose scrunched.

“Sick?” the Clone looked her over and raised an eyebrow. “You look to be in perfect health to me, Little Bit. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen you this healthy in a long time.”

“Because I’m not living off rations and protein water.” Rolling her eyes, she let the back of her hand brush against his armored fingers and sighed. “Maybe I’ve been training too hard. Master Windu sent me away yesterday because I cursed at him.”

“You swore at your Master?” Catcher looked highly amused and almost a little proud of her; everyone around knew good and well that General Mace Windu was such a straight bolt that it didn’t surprise him that the man had sent Iza packing.

“I couldn’t help it,” the brunette shrugged, suddenly looking like she was suppressing the urge to be sick. Pausing in her steps, she took a deep breath and swallowed, closing her eyes.

“Iza?”

Holding her hand up, she waved him off and huffed. “I’m fine. It’s just indigestion. I think.”

Catcher couldn’t help staring after her as she continued to walk forward, brown eyes fixed on her back. Something wasn’t sitting right with him; he hadn’t noticed anything off about his lover besides the fact that maybe she’d been a _little_ moodier than usual, and she hadn’t complained about Obi-Wan being in her head for weeks. He knew the reason for the latter, however. He’d overheard General Kenobi telling General Skywalker that Iza’s Master had blocked him from their Bond while they were training. Clearly, he hadn’t told his apprentice.

“Catch?”

“Sorry,” offering a sheepish sort of smile, he caught up in two long strides and would have happily given her an affectionate kiss to her scarred cheek had there not been so many other Jedi milling about. His presence in the garden was already strange enough to them; he didn’t need to give them more of a reason to stare.

“Can we go to the hostel tonight?” Iza dropped her voice real low, playing with her fingers as she stared straight ahead instead of looking at him.

“Of course,” Catcher nodded and nudged her with his shoulder to get her to take one of the smaller paths. “What time should we meet, Little Bit?”

“Normal time. Same place.” Nodding to a fellow Jedi as he passed, she inhaled sharply through her nose when her stomach decided to roll again and gagged at the strong smell that followed him. Covering her mouth did her no good and Iza had to try and find a place to be sick that wasn’t the sacred Jedi garden. Rushing to the nearest railing overlooking the city, she leaned over and nearly threw herself over the side in her haste.

“ _Iza!_ ” Catcher’s hand fisted in the back of her robes to keep her from falling, the other moving to sweep the hair away from her face as she retched horribly until she was left coughing and spitting.

“ _Stars!_ ” Gasping for air, Iza slumped against him, bringing the bottom of her robes to her mouth to wipe it off. “What _was_ that horrible smell?”

Catcher, still a little shaken up that she’d nearly toppled over the edge of the railing, stared at her like she was crazy. “… _what?_ What smell, Iza?”

Stars above, she looked so disgusted when she tried to recall it and he felt her body lurch a little against his, but thankfully she only let out a little belch this time. “It was like… rotten… I don’t know.”

“I’m taking you to the medical wing.” Catcher wasn’t taking _no_ for an answer as he lifted her off of her feet.

“No, _don’t!_ ” Gripping onto the neck of his chest-plate, Iza pulled in protest. “Catcher, I probably just ate—”

“Iza Tacor,” fixing her with a _hard_ stare full of determination and deep concern, the Clone shook his head at her. “No. Not this time. You’re going.”

“Then take me to see a local medic. Master Windu will stop my training if he knows I’m sick.”

“Maybe that’d be for the best. You shouldn’t push yourself if you’re ill.”

“ _Catcher_ ,” smacking the center of the hard chest-plate, Iza had to pretend that it hadn’t hurt like hell and pouted up at him before holding her hand up like she was going to use one of her _silly Jedi tricks_ on him.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,”

“Then put me down.”

Growling deep in his chest like this was the last thing he wanted to do, the Clone finally relented and set her back on her feet, all the while shaking his head at her in disbelief. “You’re a wretched little brat.”

Scoffing at him, Iza pushed past Catcher, knocking her shoulder into his hard enough to bruise her own. She was _not_ going to the Temple medic for something as stupid as an upset stomach. She’d simply eaten too much this afternoon and something in her meal had disagreed with her. With all of the foreign things she’d been eating lately, a _lot_ of it hadn’t been agreeing with her. She’d grown quite used to losing the contents of her stomach like that, actually. As she started for the stairs, she didn’t hear his footsteps following her at all. _Odd_. Normally Catcher would be right on her heels after an argument. Not stopping, however, the brunette made it about halfway down before the heavy clunk of Trooper armor came up fast behind her and she smirked faintly to herself. So, he wanted a chase this time? Okay. She could do that.

Whipping the long ends of her robes back so she wouldn’t trip, Iza raced down the rest of the staircase and through the long hallway that led outside. Once through the doors, she let out a joyous sort of laugh and jumped down the stone steps leading to the civilian path, landing with a grunt before looking back to watch Catcher try and keep up. _Really_ , she should’ve known better. He was a quick one, that Clone of hers. He was already almost on top of her, a wild look in those pretty eyes of his as he grinned and wagged a finger.

Her boots ground against the pavement as she turned to start running again, weaving through the foot traffic in her way and occasionally using benches and railings as jumping off points in an effort to show off. If Master Windu saw her now, he’d hang his head in shame and say she’d been spending too much time with that Skywalker boy and _maybe_ it’d rubbed off on her a little more than it should have.

Once she’d gotten far enough away from the Temple, Iza slowed her pace to catch her breath, grinning at the sound of Catcher’s footsteps coming up behind her. Turning to look up at him, she smiled lazily and looked around before dragging him down a side street.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked once he was able to.

“It’s a secret,” pausing to stop at one of the fruit vendors, Iza tossed a credit onto the wooden countertop and took the prettiest looking Jogan fruit from the cart. Looking back at Catcher, she took a bite of the purple and white globe and continued to pull him along behind her.

“Iza,” Catcher wasn’t sure he liked the stares he was getting from some of the locals as the young Jedi tugged him around like a plaything. But Iza behaved as though she didn’t notice as she continued to eat the piece of fruit in her hand and steer him all up and down the city until they stopped in front of a run-down looking building that didn’t even look occupied. Making a face, Catcher tried to peer into a filthy window, but there was no light at all coming from inside. “…what is this, Little Bit?”

“Do you love me, Catcher?”

 _Kriff the Chancellor_ , he’d nearly popped his armor his head had whipped around to look at her so fast. Studying her face—which was stained with the juice of that damned fruit, he noticed—for some sort of sign that she was trying to pull some sort of joke on him, the Clone realized damn quick that she was serious. Bringing both hands up to cup her jaw in his palms, he dipped his head and kissed her deeply, pulling back to nod.

“Of course I love you,” did she need to ask?

“Marry me,” her fingers curled over his wrists and those lovely eyes of hers glittered up at him in the ever-fading light of the sun.

“You can’t do that,” even as concern set deep into his features, Catcher knew it wasn’t the right thing to say. However, he couldn’t just brush aside the fact that Iza would be going against the Code even more than she already was. Never mind the fact that _he_ would be in just as much of a mess if anyone were to find out. “We can’t…”

“ _Who says?_ ” he wished she wouldn’t look at him like that. It wasn’t fair when she pouted and gave that sweet, innocent look of hers. “We wouldn’t need to tell anyone. It could be our secret.”

“We don’t have enough secrets, Little Bit?” He smiled at her, thumbing the scar on her cheek.

“I’ll leave the Order,” she was touching his face now, her fingers smelling lightly of that stupid fruit. “Whatever you want. I don’t care. I would much rather—”

“Hush, you.” Stealing another soft kiss, he shook his head and slid his fingers back into her hair. “I would _never_ ask you to abandon the Order for me, and you know it.”

“But I _want_ this, Catcher. I want this so much. I can’t stand hiding anymore—it isn’t _fair_.”

He couldn’t stand there and tell her that nothing was fair in war time. He knew how tired she was of hearing that. He also knew how damn tired he was of running around in the shadows, hiding away the one thing that made him happy to get up in the morning. He knew what a toll keeping these secrets from every last finger waving wizard in that Temple was doing to _her_ , too. Iza had such an open relationship with General Windu that he knew keeping this from him must’ve been extremely draining for her.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten his fair share of crap from his brothers. He’d been cornered and asked _multiple_ times whether he’d _charged up her loading ramp_ or not, and each time he’d been made to laugh it off and pretend that it didn’t twist some fiery knob of anger deep in his gut. He didn’t want to become a deserter, didn’t want to be dishonorably discharged—but she made it sound so _worth it_.

“Me too,” he found himself saying as he peppered kisses down the bridge of her nose. “You have to know that, Iza,”

“Can we?” she held his face in her hands now, locking their gazes and pleading with him silently.

Oh, _Force_.

“Yes,” nodding, Catcher sealed his lips over hers in a sweet kiss, smiling against her lips when he felt her start to shake with happiness. “We can, Little Bit.”

~*~*~*~

“Are you _really_ going to eat that?” Ahsoka couldn’t be bothered to try and hide her disgust as she watched Iza pluck out a slimy looking piece of… _whatever_ that meat was in that container.

“Why not?” Shrugging, Iza popped it into her mouth and acted as though it hadn’t just made a wet _pop_ once her teeth had crushed it. “Tastes fine.”

“What _is_ that, Iza?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you’re eating it. Is that even _safe_ for you?”

Giving Ahsoka a curious look, the brunette snorted and took another look at the chunked up bits of meat in the container. “I’m not dead yet, am I?”

 _Right_. Unsure how her friend could even stand the _stench_ of what she was eating, Ahsoka decided to stand a little off to the side so she wouldn’t have to breathe the aroma in herself. Leaning up against the side of a nearby building, the Padawan looked around at the people passing before glancing back at Iza. She’d been in a really chipper mood lately, a big change from how she’d been the last time she’d seen her. As much as she wanted to ask how she was doing, both Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi had strictly forbidden her from saying anything about that day. But she seemed to be okay now, so that was good enough for her.

“I’m done.” Iza declared a few moments later, sticking her fingers in her mouth to get them clean. She dumped her trash into a nearby bin and looked over at Ahsoka, giving a light jerk of her head. “C’mon,”

Pushing away from the wall, Ahsoka moved to follow after her friend, unable to shake that damn smell. Maybe it was her Togruta senses going a little crazy from being bombarded by the strange meat Iza had consumed, but something in the back of her head said there was something else wrong here. Something felt _off_ about Iza, and she didn’t think it had anything to do with food. But before she could really say anything, the sound of Anakin’s voice calling to the two of them had both women turning their attention to where he stood waiting at the end of the walkpath with a very disgruntled looking Obi-Wan.

“Oh, _stars_ ,” she heard Iza mutter a swear word she’d only heard the Clones use before and Ahsoka’s eyes went wide. “What is _he_ doing here?”

“Master Kenobi? Anakin invited him.”

“Well there goes our casual day out,” making a face that could’ve stripped bolts from a droid, Iza huffed and slowed her pace, letting her eyes drift to _another_ food stall before she patted Ahsoka on the shoulder. “You go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“You’re eating _again?_ ” Ahsoka’s blue eyes went wide with shock. “But you just ate!”

“I’m hungry.” Giving the younger girl a look as if to ask what the timing of her meals had to do with anything, Iza broke away and wandered up to the cart, leaving Ahsoka to greet the two men.

“Well, she looks happy to see us.” Anakin snorted, watching Iza point at something on the menu and drop a couple of credits onto the counter in front of the vendor. “What did you do _this_ time, Master?”

“I beg your pardon?” Shooting the younger Jedi an indignant look, Obi-Wan scoffed. “I have barely _seen_ her, Anakin.”

“Since when does that matter?”

“ _Anakin_ ,”

“Hey, guys?” Ahsoka’s voice had them both looking over, brows raised. Pointing over to the cart where Iza had been standing just moments before, she frowned. “Where did she go?”

~*~*~*~

 _Stars above_ , she hadn’t been able to get out of there fast enough. As much as Iza wanted to spend some time with Ahsoka, she couldn’t bear the idea of having to sit around with Obi-Wan right now. She’d avoided him in the Temple whenever he was around and made sure that even if they did have to make contact with one another, it was brief and never without Master Windu in attendance. She was just going to have to make this up to the Padawan at a later date; Ahsoka would understand.

She’d gone the long way around back to the city center, not making any pit stops for fear that she might be spotted and taken aside by the trio for questioning, and she _really_ wasn’t in the mood. She had somewhere she had to be and didn’t feel like being held up for any reason short of a Separatist attack. Hooking her fingers in the hood of her robe, she flipped it up over her head and ducked down a side street, careful to avoid being spotted by anyone who might recognize her. There was a moment, as she was descending a long set of stairs down into a dank smelling corridor, where she was thankful for Master Windu blocking off her Bond with Obi-Wan. While he could still find some way to track her if he really wanted, at least he couldn’t reach out and grab onto her whenever he damn well pleased anymore.

When she’d finally reached her destination, Iza looked up at the dim neon sign and sighed heavily before pressing the panel to go inside.

“Madam Tacor,” the droid behind the dirty counter buzzed as she walked up, its LED panels flickering when it spoke. “Your companion is in the back.”

“Thank you,” dropping her hood, Iza couldn’t help noticing how loud the echo of her boots was on the tile floor as she made her way further into the building. This place was _empty_ aside from a few service droids milling about, but that was fine with her. The less flesh and blood people there were to recognize her, the better. When she’d reached the end of the hallway, she brushed aside the worn out fabric curtain hanging in the threshold of the room it led to and cautiously stuck her head inside.

“It’s about time, Little Bit,” Catcher let out a relieved sort of laugh from where he sat on a beat up cushion. Dressed in civilian wear to stay somewhat incognito, he looked quite casual spread out like he’d been waiting all day for her to show up. In all fairness, he probably _had_.

“I’m so sorry,” shrugging out of the outer robe, Iza dumped it on top of a dusty table and carefully settled down on his lap. “If it had just been Ahsoka, I would have called and said I would be a little late.”

“What do you mean by _just Ahsoka?_ ” Shifting Iza on his lap so he could pull her back against his chest, Catcher wrapped his arms around her and raised a curious brow at her.

Making a face like it was the _last_ thing she wanted to discuss she decided that she was more interested in giving a kiss to his chin instead of immediately answering. “Does it matter?”

“Iza,”

“Listen,” straightening, she had to pause a moment and tug at her robes. Her new appetite seemed to be doing more harm than good with as tight as these things were these days. “Every time I mention Obi-Wan Kenobi in your presence, you get this look in your eye like someone pressed your murder switch. I didn’t even talk to him. I left before he and Anakin could even get close enough to say _hello_.”

While Catcher didn’t want to make a liar out of her, he also couldn’t help the way he wrinkled his nose for a half-second when he heard the name. He still hadn’t forgiven the Jedi Master for not being more careful with Iza on that damn mission. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t seem to remember what had happened— _he_ would never forget the look in her eye that she’d come home with after that man was supposed to protect her.

“Anyway,” Iza was just going to _pretend_ she hadn’t seen his face twitch like that; reaching up to run her fingers through his hair and press a kiss to the side of his head. “I’m here now, and I’m _really_ hoping they hurry up with our room.”

“I have our pass.” Lips curling in a sly smirk, Catcher held up the flat cartridge and eyed her before nudging her up from his lap. Watching the way she tugged at her robes again, he snickered and got to his feet, raising an eyebrow. “Antsy?”

“What?” Blinking up at him, Iza paused in the readjustment of her sash and then turned a little pink before pulling the outer robe back on. “Well… yes and no.”

“Yes and _no?_ Please feel free to explain the _no_ part, sweetheart,” resting his hand on her lower back, Catcher steered Iza back through the curtain and down the hall, only stopping when they’d reached the door to the room they were renting for the evening.

“It’s _embarrassing_ ,” she muttered, following him inside. Shrugging out of her outer robe, Iza set it on a chair and went to unbuckle her belt, then untie her sash. “I need to get new robes. These are too tight.”

“Too tight?” Catcher was having a hard time understanding how something so roomy looking could be _tight_ , but then—he wasn’t the one who was stuck wearing those heavy looking layers. Instead, he was expected to wear eighty-eight pounds worth of body armor. Thinking about it, maybe she had the better end of the deal here. “Sweetheart, _where?_ ”

“Here,” pointing to her waist, she pulled her tabard off over her head, leaving just the under-tunic and the leggings. These were at least loose enough for her to walk around in without feeling like she’d been stuffed into them. She’d sat down in the chair to start removing her boots when she noticed that Catcher seemed to be staring at her _hard_ , absently counting something out on his fingers. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Iza,” brown eyes leveled with hers as he crossed the room and crouched beside the chair, a hand resting on her thigh. “Did you go to the medic like I asked?”

A sheepish sort of look crossed her features before she ducked her chin and tried to go back to getting her boots off, only to have one of Catcher’s strong hands cup her jaw and turn her attention back to him.

“ _Iza_ ,” she couldn’t tell if it was fear or a little bit of excitement in his voice when he said her name for what had to be the thousandth time in the last twenty minutes. “Sweetheart, I think…”

When he trailed off like that, it made her tilt her head like a curious dog. What? What did he think was the cause of her expanding waistline aside from the fact that her training had given her a voracious appetite? It wasn’t as if she’d never dealt with this before, after all. When she’d been a Padawan, there’d been times when she couldn’t get enough food into her after long days of Force training with Master Windu. Considering some of the things they were tapping into this time around, it wasn’t any surprise at all that she required a few extra calories to keep up with him.

“…you could be pregnant, Iza.”

And just like that, the snack she’d had while hanging out with Ahsoka was creeping right back up her throat. _No_. There was no kriffing way in the cosmos she was pregnant. She would _know_ , wouldn’t she? She’d heard stories of how Force sensitive women usually just _knew_ when there was a new lifeform inside of them. She hadn’t felt anything different aside from the indigestion and the crankiness and this never-ending nausea that could only be cured by only the most disgusting of foods.

Oh, **_stars_**.

~*~*~*~

Nervous fingers tapped against the base of her lightsaber as Iza sat in the dingy clinic with her head down and her hood up. She’d been in here for only ten minutes waiting on that damned droid to hurry up with the bloodtests, but already she felt like running screaming out into the streets of Coruscant.

What in the name of the Force was she going to do if that bucket of bolts came back and told her she was with child? She could hide it for a little while, sure; get a new set of robes, step up security on her mind to keep Master Windu from finding out, and be _extra_ careful with everything that she did. But what happened when she started to get bigger? What was she supposed to say when someone asked who the father was? While she knew it wasn’t _expressly_ forbidden to engage in emotionless intercourse with someone, it was _highly_ frowned upon for her to not be responsible enough to at least be on some sort of birth control. Jedi women didn’t _have_ children, _normal_ women bore Force sensitives who _became_ Jedi.

And Jedi certainly didn’t bear the children of Clones.

“Tacor?” the mechanical hum of the medic droid startled her out of her thoughts and Iza got up from her seat to go to the window. At least there wasn’t anyone else in here to see her or hear her name; she’d hate to have to waste energy influencing memories tonight.

“That’s me,” she said quietly, leaning on the edge of the counter while the droid readied a data card for her and passed it under the window.

“Your test results, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” dropping a handful of credits into the donation bucket, Iza took the data card and slipped it into her pocket before she turned to leave. The walk back to the Temple was long and dreary and she was so full of panic that she had to stop every so often to fight off the urge to be sick everywhere. It only got worse as she climbed the stairs leading up to the place, looking up at the huge tower off to the north end for a long time. Shaking her head, she turned and headed in a different direction to the Clone barracks.

“General Tacor,” Rex gave a nod when Iza waltzed in the way she’d done for the last few weeks, that knowing smirk faint on his lips. He’d gotten pretty used to the Jedi visiting the place and he’d been more than willing to turn a blind eye to the goings-on between the girl and his Trooper.

“Not your General, Rex. We’ve been through this.” She couldn’t help smiling at him, relieved to have something to laugh at.

“Apologies, sir,” no, he’d more than likely continue saying it. “But you led a faction of men on an assignment. You’re a General.” Yep. Good ol’ stubborn Rex.

“All right, all right,” waving a hand, she finally laughed out loud and opened her mouth to quietly ask where she could find Catcher when the Captain beat her to it.

“Out back,” he said as casually as he could, giving her a look that made her a little uneasy. “Restocking the ammo.”

“Hey Rex?”

“Yes sir?”

Taking a deep breath, she smiled up at him and tilted her head curiously. “Do you have a datapad I can borrow for a few moments? I’ve got this card I need to look over for Master Kenobi and I forgot to grab one from the Temple.”

“Sure,” without hesitation, Rex went over to a rucksack and pulled a datapad free from it, handing it over. “Just leave it with Catcher when you’re done, yeah?”

“Thank you,” bidding him a good-night, the brunette made her way around to the back where the armory shed was, fingers clutching the datapad so tight it was a wonder she didn’t crush it. She found Catcher hard at work as promised, carefully sorting out the different grenades and stuffing them into rucksacks. Waiting until his hands were free of anything that could easily be set to blow, she whistled through her teeth to get his attention, watching his head perk up over the top of a crate.

Dusting his hands off on his trousers, Catcher waved her inside and leaned in to discreetly brush his lips over her cheek under the guise of moving something off of a crate so she could sit.

“Well?” He asked, sitting beside her. “How did it go?”

Iza only held up the datapad and dug into her pocket for the card, showing them to him before pressing her lips together tightly. “I haven’t looked. I wanted to do it together.”

“Okay,” nudging her, Iza could sense his restlessness and wished he’d calm down for a minute before any of that transferred to her. “So, let’s do it.”

“Catcher,” she really needed to stop wearing her damn hair up. It was starting to become a bother when she couldn’t satisfy that horrible need to tug at it when anxiety decided to creep up on her. “I need a minute. I’m scared.”

Resting a hand on her lower back, the Clone leaned over and pressed another gentle kiss to the side of her head, letting his lips linger for a few beats this time. This was _dangerous_ ; Captain Rex had his suspicions about what was going on between Catcher and the little Jedi, but he’d been respectful enough to keep his nose out of everything. However, if he caught the Clone in the act, there was no telling what might happen.

“I am too,” he confessed after a moment or two of silence.

They both were right to be. The results sitting on that data card held the potential to ruin both of their lives.

Finally, with shaking hands, Iza slipped the card into the datapad and switched it on, feeling her heartbeat start to flutter as she scrolled through the usual bloodwork gibberish. And then she’d paused—no, she’d _frozen up_ beside him with her eyes glued to the screen. Curious and not willing to wait for her to tell him on her own, Catcher looked over her shoulder and scanned the text himself.

 _Pregnant_. _Approximately twelve weeks._

“Catcher,” Iza’s voice sounded so distant in his ear and he heard the datapad hit the ground before he felt her start to slide off the crate beside him.

“ _Iza!_ ” Managing to get her into his arms before she fainted off of the crate, Catcher hauled her onto his lap and stroked a hand down her cheek. “Little Bit?”

She was conscious, just _very_ stunned and _very_ numb. Part of her wanted to be sick and the other part wanted to scream in celebration. She was _pregnant_ with Catcher’s child. They were going to have a family. This should be one of the most _amazing_ moments in her life. But it was the thought of the war, of the Order and Catcher’s duties that made her head swim so hard that she wanted to cry. How were they going to do this? How would they manage? And what about that wedding she’d wanted so desperately? Would they still have time for that now? What about—

“Stop that, Little Bit,” Catcher kissed her like he didn’t give a damn who saw, more concerned with calming her down than anything else. He’d learned to read her a little _too_ well by now and all it took was for her to get that faraway look in her eye for him to know that she was about to set herself into a panic. “I’ve got you.” After a minute, he kissed her again and smiled, resting his forehead to hers.

“I’ve got you _both_.”


	14. I'm All Listened Out

She should have felt a little more relieved when Master Windu was called away on an assignment and her lessons were put on hold, but Iza hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Maybe it had been the odd look he’d given her on his way out; was he unimpressed with her new robes? They looked exactly the same as the last set, just a little _roomier_. Anyone who hadn’t been searching for subtle changes in her form would never have known the difference. Perhaps she’d given herself away without realizing it and he was trying to find some way to confront her? Master Windu was _extremely_ orthodox when it came to following the Code, but he disliked causing conflict whenever possible.

Or maybe he’d just been sorry that he wouldn’t be there to keep Obi-Wan from using their Bond.

At first, she’d been _so_ confused.

She’d woken from a dream—a nightmare, honestly—where she’d found herself pressed up against the side of a Fighter bird while rough hands found their way beneath her robes. _Stars_ , she’d felt the heavy, damp heat of ragged breathing on her neck and the tell-tale scratch of a thick beard that let her know clear as day that this _wasn’t_ Catcher she was dreaming about. His hands were **always** gentle, even in their most passionate of moments. He certainly would never pull and scratch this way. Catcher didn’t smell of linen soap and he didn’t taste like repressed _sin_.

And Catcher **_didn’t_** have blue eyes.

She’d practically thrown herself out of her bed, shouting something unintelligible and causing something out in the hallway to shatter. The blinding darkness hadn’t helped a single bit and Iza had to stumble around to try and find the light panel, fighting the urge to be sick all over the floor. _Why_ would she dream such a thing? She hadn’t even spoken to Obi-Wan in over a week. In fact, she’d gone out of her damn way to avoid even running into him since she and Catcher had found out the news of her pregnancy. She’d tried to avoid _anyone_ immediately tied to the highest points of the Council, with the obvious exception of her Master.

So, why this? Why _now?_ And why **him**?

As she started to calm down and reassure herself that it’d just been nothing more than a stupid dream, Iza felt a strange sensation at the back of her head. It was like fingers were tugging at the seams of something, pulling free the makeshift stitches set in place to keep that something closed. It was nearly too late before she realized that the Bond had been reopened and Kenobi was reaching for her. The worst part about it was the ache pooling low in her belly. She knew that it couldn’t be from _her_ end; no way in hell would she ever feel any sort of attraction like that to him. Iza had everything she wanted—and more—with Catcher, and Obi-Wan could never compare as far as she was concerned.

But _stars_ , whatever he was thinking must’ve been something horribly arousing because she couldn’t seem to block it out. She pushed back against the feelings he was broadcasting to her, tried to force them out of her own head until she was yelling again and slamming her hand down on the panel button to open her door. Instinct led her straight to his quarters and she had his chamber door open even before she’d gotten to the threshold.

“ _Get up_ ,” a wave of her hand had him rolling over violently in his bed and he grunted when his back hit the wall.

Obi-Wan had no idea what was happening for a good five seconds as he rubbed the back of his head and tried to gather enough wit to pull himself the rest of the way out of sleep. There was this pulsing sense of darkness in the room with him, sucking the air out and making it extremely hot and hard to breathe. Realizing that Iza was standing in front of him in her nightclothes looking like she’d love nothing but to strangle the Force out of him, he shook the remaining stars out of his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Iza? What in the name of—”

“How… _dare you_ ,” she was seething and she didn’t seem to care if everyone in the Temple could feel it. Obi-Wan felt a hot pressure against his chest and realized he couldn’t move; he wasn’t sure if it was a smart idea to try. “I warned you what would happen if you pulled this again, Kenobi.”

“Iza, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Letting out a short laugh, the brunette lowered her hand and the elder Jedi found it a little easier to breathe again. “ _Please_. Playing innocent will only work once.”

Scraping his brains for any idea of what the blazes this girl was talking about, Obi-Wan felt his throat go dry when he recalled the dream he’d been having before she’d stormed in here. _Oh, Force_. He hadn’t meant for her to see that. He’d gotten so used to the block on their Bond that he’d become careless about his thoughts. In Master Windu’s presence, he’d been shut out—he’d been free to silently let his mind wander where, deep down, he knew it shouldn’t. But the Master wasn’t here and his barrier had weakened and _poor_ Iza had been subjected to things he would’ve rather kept private.

“Jedi Tacor,”

“Oh—we’re being formal now?” he really didn’t like the nasty gleam in her eye. “Tell me, _Master Kenobi_ , are you formal with me when you picture that filth in your dreams?”

He could feel a sort of hot shame color his cheeks and couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze.

“ _Look at me_ ,”

He didn’t like that he had to fight against the compulsion to lift his head. There was something very _wrong_ with that; he was stronger than she was. He’d had more training, more time to prepare his mind against something as silly as persuasion like that. But she was putting so much Force energy behind everything she did and utilizing the rage he’d spurred in her that it suddenly made sense as to why she’d nearly wormed the command into his head.

So, _that’s_ what those lessons had been.

Master Windu had completely denied him the chance to learn to channel his own frustrations this way when he’d asked. The man claimed that it couldn’t be taught easily, that one needed to be close to Falling before they could even recognize the darker things they needed to grasp onto and employ for more positive purposes. There was a pang of jealousy in his chest as he worked his jaw, mentally waving away her compulsion like one might swat at a bug. He knew he shouldn’t be so envious; if Windu had chosen now to teach the young Jedi, it was for a reason. And he didn’t have to search very hard to know what that reason was.

“ _Kenobi_ ,”

“Enough,” he put his hand up in defeat, voice low and soft. He didn’t want to do this, not here. Not now and not _ever_. Keeping his eyes on her feet instead of her face simply because he did _not_ want to know what other sorts of tricks Iza’s Master may have shown her, he sighed heavily and waved a hand to get the lights on before scrubbing his palm over his tired face. “I told you before—I’m still a _man_ , Iza. I cannot help it if my mind wanders where it should not.”

“I happen to know you’re a man of great _restraint_ , Kenobi.” She was practically grinding her damn teeth as she spoke and he could see her shifting her weight like she wanted to pounce on him. “You’re _vile_. I bet it doesn’t even _work_ and that’s your reason for your sorry excuse for **restraint**.”

 _Ouch_. Okay, she didn’t need to go there. It wasn’t true, of course, but it was still quite a rude thing for her to say.

“You think I’m ignorant because I’m younger than you.” Clearly, she wasn’t finished, “That I don’t know anything about what _men_ think of when they look at a woman when they haven’t felt the flesh of one in a decade. But I know, Obi-Wan. I know _exactly_ what they think because _you_ put those things into my head when I don’t want you to.”

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t know how many times he was going to have to apologize for this. She had to know it had never been his intention to bombard her with these thoughts. They’d been meant for _him_ and him alone.

“You should be.” The thick heat in the room had started to die down as Iza’s feet moved out of his line of sight, shuffling towards the door. “I’ll be letting Master Windu deal with you.”

“Iza,” finally lifting his head to look at her, Obi-Wan frowned hard. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue pleading his case because he feared being reprimanded by the Order, or if he was worried about that strange energy she was hauling around with her. “Wait a minute,”

“I already gave you a chance to stop this nonsense, Kenobi,” her hand hovered over the door’s panel control, but she hadn’t opened it yet. “You squandered it.”

“Then why is our Bond still intact?” He challenged, hoping that she wasn’t going to turn around and slam him up against the wall again. “If you despise me so, why do I still feel our connection in the Force?”

Iza’s fingers twitched and her whole body went tense. That suffocating feeling filled the room again, but only for a moment. She seemed to be searching for an answer to give him, but was coming up empty. No—that wasn’t true. Iza had a _nagging_ little feeling that there was a reason the Bond was still there, she just couldn’t find it. It was like there was a blank space somewhere in her head that wasn’t lining up with the rest of the memories she was combing through and it didn’t make sense. There was just this _feeling_ she had that she couldn’t shake. Sure, seeing Obi-Wan often set her nerves on edge, but there were times when she felt an odd sense of adoration towards him. Nothing like what she felt for Catcher, of course. This was more of a feeling of gratitude. Perhaps for saving her life? He had, after all, brought her back from a near-permanent death.

But that wasn’t it, either.

Sometimes, she’d get strange flashes in her head that didn’t make sense. A bright blue light cast against a concrete wall; holding someone and reassuring them with words so muffled they were indecipherable; the sound of someone crying that made her heart hurt. She didn’t know whose memories they were, but she didn’t think they belonged to her.

“Iza?”

 _No_. She wasn’t going to let that calming voice fool her. She knew who Obi-Wan was underneath that well kempt exterior. He may have had everyone else fooled, but she wouldn’t fall for it or his stupid charms.

“I’m going back to bed,” tapping her fingers against the panel, she frowned when the door didn’t open like it should’ve. Trying again, she exhaled harshly through her nose when she realized that he was blocking the circuits from working, and turned around to face him. “Let me out.”

“I want to know—”

“I don’t _have_ a reason for you, Obi-Wan!” Yelling through gritted teeth, Iza tapped the button with more pressure than necessary and then pounded a fist against the door. “ _Hello?!_ Is anyone out there?!”

The door finally opened with a soft _whoosh_ and Iza couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. Her bare feet slapped hard against the tile floor as she rushed down the hall, trying not to run into any of the more nocturnal Jedi milling about. Her head was swimming as she practically flew down the stairs leading out of the Temple, stopping in her tracks when she saw a familiar figure running along the walkway at a dead sprint.

 _Catcher_.

She rushed him, stumbling a little in her haste. Their chests collided hard enough to knock the wind out of one another, but even then the Clone had been careful enough not to upset her ever-swelling belly. Sweeping her up off of her bare feet, he slipped his arm beneath her backside and cradled the back of her head while she flung her arms around his neck, nearly making him topple back a few steps. Neither of them said a word as they tried to catch their breath, and Iza could feel his heart pounding against her chest as he tightened his hold on her.

“What happened?” he asked after managing to get enough air into his lungs. “I heard you scream.”

Confused as to how he’d managed to hear that _all the way down in the barracks_ , Iza pulled back to look at him and—in a moment of horror—realized she must’ve called out in more ways than one when she’d been trying to get out of Obi-Wan’s bedchamber. _Stars_ , she certainly hoped nobody else had been able to hear it. Shaking her head, she pressed her forehead to his in some attempt to soothe them both. It was so, _so_ risky to be here out in the open like this. Could anyone truly question them if they weren’t displaying any outright affection? No kisses were being traded and it wasn’t as if the Temple wasn’t privy to their friendship. Theirs was an _odd_ camaraderie, but they’d given no reason for anyone to suspect anything— _yet_.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, shaking her head again. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Little Bit,” Catcher might not understand how most of these strange abilities of hers worked, but he knew something like that couldn’t just _happen_ for no reason. She wouldn’t call out like that unless she had to. And _stars above_ , had it scared him half to death. He’d been sleeping so damn peacefully—a luxury in this day and age—only to be jolted out of it like someone had set his whole being on fire. There’d been no thinking about it as he sprung into immediate action like the soldier he was, making an attempt to identify the threat in order to neutralize it and bring peace to whatever was causing her anguish. It was much harder when there was no enemy to see and she was all the way up in that kriffing Temple.

“You two should really be more careful out here.” The sound of Anakin’s light tone snapped them both out of whatever trance they’d put themselves in and Catcher started to set Iza back on her feet even as she whined in protest. Watching the boy’s blue eyes shift between them, he wasn’t sure if he liked that knowing smirk that crossed his General’s face before he tutted. “Obi-Wan is looking for you. I wouldn't stand here.”

Nodding, Iza muttered a quiet _thank you_ before grabbing at Catcher’s arm to pull him along behind her.

“Iza,” Anakin called out again, making them both pause and turn around.

“Yes?” She really wished he’d hurry up; she didn’t need to get caught out here.

Again, the other Jedi’s eyes looked between the two of them, though his features held no trace of the playfulness from before. There was a moment of hesitation before he straightened and cleared his throat. “You’ll be coming with us to Oila.”

“ _Sir—_ ”

“At ease, Trooper,” the tall Jedi kept his eyes focused only on Iza. “You’ll need to be fitted for armor. This is a relief mission, but things are rough out there. Catcher,” _now_ the younger man was looking at the Clone. “Take her to the outfitter. He’s waiting to take her measurements.”

Licking his lips, Catcher swallowed hard and hesitated, “Sir, please reconsider—”

“Don’t argue with him, Catch.” Iza’s voice held the hint of a tremor as she spoke, her fingers wrapping around his and giving what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze. “He’s your General. Don’t disobey his orders.”

The hard squeeze Catcher gave in response _hurt_. She could feel his hand shaking as it gripped hers and they both seemed to silently hope that Anakin couldn’t see it. She was getting nauseous as she forced herself to smile at the taller Jedi in front of them and she saw Catcher give a slow nod of acceptance to the order from the corner of her eye.

“We leave in three hours.” Anakin seemed unbothered by the display in front of him, as if he couldn’t sense that the two were absolutely _terrified_ as they stood before him. “I’ll see you on board.”

“Yes sir,” both of them answered in unison.

Seemingly satisfied, he smiled like his usual self and pivoted on his heel to head up to the Temple, leaving Iza and Catcher feeling drained and sick on the walkway.

“Oh… oh _stars!_ ” letting go of Catcher’s hand, Iza raked her fingers through her hair and gave such a vicious yank that she was sure she’d torn some of the strands out. “What are we going to do? Catcher—a _battlefield?_ ”

A few months ago the idea might’ve been exciting. Fighting alongside him would’ve been almost fun. But now they stood to lose _so much_ that she couldn’t help wondering if this was it. Was this going to be the thing that made them both turn tail and run away from everything they knew?

“I have my orders,” even as the loyal soldier he was, Catcher’s words seemed hollow as he spoke them. “But I’m not sure I want to follow them.”

“I’ve _seen_ that battle armor they give us.” Iza’s fear was slowly starting to turn into rage and if she wasn’t careful, she was going to cause problems like she’d done before. “It’s all upper body and leg armor. There’s nothing… I won’t have…” shaking hands went to cover the tiny swell of her belly and she swore she thought she could feel those ever-prying fingers making an attempt to slip into her mind. She fought back as hard as she could, making herself dizzy in the process and grabbing onto Catcher’s arm for support.

“We can run.” He said it so softly she almost hadn’t heard it. “We can just _go_ , Iza.”

Could they? Would they be able to get far enough away before someone was sent to retrieve them so they could be punished for abandoning their duties? Not likely. Not when she had Master Windu _and_ Obi-Wan stuck in her head like this. She could turn away from the Order all she wanted, but she doubted she’d ever be able to escape the Bonds _either_ of them had on her. It would take a Fall for them to truly let go.

“We can’t,” she murmured, the cold realization washing over her and making her numb from head to toe. “There’s nowhere to go. We don’t have a choice, Catch.”

“ _Iza—_ ” grasping her shoulders, he turned her so she faced him, wishing he could will her to lift her head up and look him in the eye. “I can’t let you on that battlefield like this!”

“What part of _we don’t have a choice_ did you miss, Catcher?!” Yelling was a good way to draw attention to oneself and get caught for things they shouldn’t be doing, but Iza had reached her breaking point. “I dedicated so much of my life training to protect the peace of the galaxy that I just _don’t_ have the kriffing _choice_ to do anything else! And you—” cold hands came up and took hold of the sides of his face. “—you were _made_ for this. It’s in your genetic makeup, my love. You feel the pull even when you don’t want to and it _eats_ at you. We were both born for this purpose, Catcher. We never had a choice, and we never will.”

“What are you saying?” Did he really need to go and ask? Did he _have_ to look her in the eye and ask, as if he didn’t already know the answer to that?

“I’m saying—” she had to remember to breathe. “—I’m saying we need to go to the outfitter so I can get my armor. You’re going to have to teach me how to put it on.”

~*~*~*~

“Anakin, have you gone _insane_?” Obi-Wan stared his former apprentice down like the man had five heads and a tail. “Master Windu gave express orders for her to remain at the Temple!”

“We’re a man short, Master Kenobi. Ahsoka is off-world on her own assignment and we need one more Jedi for this job.” Anakin, on the other hand, looked unbothered as ever.

“You can’t drag her out onto the front lines like that! She hasn’t had the proper—”

“I already had her fitted for armor, and I’m sure Catcher and Rex can give her some pointers for how to handle the weight. It’s not that bad once you get used to it.”

“The weight of the armor is not the point, Anakin!” Scrubbing a hand through his hair and down over his face, Obi-Wan gave a frustrated tug to his beard and debated how he was going to explain Iza’s strange behavior earlier in the night. He couldn’t tell Anakin that she’d been in his bedchamber; the boy would take it the wrong way and likely torment him until he turned blue in the face. “The point is that you’re going against Master Windu’s wishes for his own apprentice—something you have no jurisdiction to do.”

“It’s too late.” Shrugging, the taller man fiddled with the lightsaber hooked at his belt and gestured towards the ship in the loading area where the Clones were gearing up. “I’d bet five credits she’s already on board.”

He wasn’t wrong. Obi-Wan had tentatively reached out, only to be slapped away from the exact direction the other man had been pointing in. _Stars_ , he wished he’d been consulted about this first.

“I don’t understand why you’re so worried, Master. Iza’s had all of the same training as the rest of us, and you said she’d been getting even more training from Master Windu since she got back from that mission we’re not supposed to talk about.”

“That _still_ isn’t the point, Anakin,”

“Well, unless you can find another willing Jedi in the next fifteen minutes, then she’s coming along with us.” Anakin gave another shrug and a look that said he knew that Obi-Wan wasn’t going to be able to find a replacement in that amount of time, not with their resources stretched so thin as they were. Finally offering a smile, he gave his Master a pat on the shoulder and started to head towards the ship. “Try not to worry too much about it, Master Obi-Wan. Iza’s perfectly capable of handling herself, and I think we both know that.”

Doing his best not to scowl at Anakin’s retreating back, Obi-Wan could do nothing more than heave a sigh of defeat. While he knew this mission wasn’t going to be a particularly _difficult_ one for any of them, he sure hoped that nothing happened to aggravate the young Jedi further.

He really would hate to see what she might be capable of if something set that anger off inside of her when Windu hadn’t finished teaching her how to harness it.

~*~*~*~

Iza kept shifting her shoulders around beneath the heavy chest plate she wore, tugging at the snug-fitting neck of the under armor suit beneath it. She couldn’t understand how Catcher could wear an entire ensemble of this without wanting to keel over, but Catcher also wasn’t _pregnant_. It was hard enough walking around in her normal robes sometimes without feeling as though she might pass out; this was going to be torture.

“Wow,”

Looking up from where she’d been sitting against a supply crate, Iza found Catcher staring with wide eyes. He had been instructed to start suiting up and helping the others pack up as soon as he’d brought her to the outfitter, so he hadn’t been around when she’d been shoved inside this monstrous apparel that reminded her _disturbingly_ of Master Kenobi’s own modified armor. At least they’d been kind enough to color match the tabard to her normal robes. She wasn’t about to go walking around in something that looked like she’d borrowed it out of that man’s closet.

Scoffing, Iza looked away from him and waved her hand. She wasn’t in the mood for this. She didn’t want to hear him say that he thought she looked _nice_ in armor like his. It was one thing for _him_ to look good in it, but Iza just wanted the comfort of her own clothes and couldn’t wait to get this damned mission over so they could go _home_.

“Shut up, Catcher.”

He smiled faintly, glancing back over his shoulder to see if anyone else was in the cargo bay with them before he came over and gave her a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Let a man live, will you?”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“Sweetheart, it’s battle gear.”

“You didn’t tell me it was so _heavy_.”

“Actually, I believe I warned you that you’d probably be carrying around an extra forty or fifty pounds.” Wagging a finger at her, his smile grew into a grin. Brown eyes moving over her face, he dropped them to her waist where her lightsaber was clipped, reaching to give a tiny tug to the utility belt. “Did they fit this too tight?”

“No. Gunner said it was adjustable, so I adjusted it. I just don’t want it to look suspicious if I go out there with everything maxed out for comfort.” Making a face, she leaned her head back against the crate. “They already think I’m a joke, Catcher. I can’t go proving them right.”

“Not a single one of my brothers—”

“Not them.” She shook her head. “Anakin and Obi-Wan. I don’t know what it is, but I can sense that they don’t believe I’m capable of performing well on this assignment. With my track record, I can’t say I don’t blame them.”

A gloved hand pinched her chin and tilted her head up and Iza was met with a soft, _too_ tender kiss. _Stars_ , it was tempting to get lost in that kiss; she wanted nothing more than to sink into him and let Catcher continue to kiss all of her problems away. But he broke away too soon and fixed her with one of his looks.

“What is it that you Jedi always say about **doubt**?”

Letting out a small laugh, the brunette playfully pushed at his chest. “You’re _not_ funny.”

“Made you smile, though.” His lips were on hers again, kissing her sweetly until she was pulling him in closer. “You’re going to get us in trouble, Little Bit.”

“Shhh,” taking his hand the brunette pulled him further into the cargo bay, snickering quietly as she half dragged him around a tall stack of crates. Grinning up at him, Iza brought him in for another round of deep, slow kisses that had him backing her up against the side of the ship and grasping at her hips to keep her close.

“We’re really not dressed properly for this,” he muttered, breaking away to pepper her face with smaller kisses. “And it’s _really_ stupid to do it here.”

“If we get caught,” Iza turned her head for him, slipping her fingers into his hair and giving a tiny tug when his teeth found that _one_ little spot on her neck he loved so much. “We’ll say we were getting rations. What are they gonna do?”

“We still can’t get all of this off and back on quickly, Iza,” chuckling as he kissed his way across her throat, Catcher hummed quietly. “Takes too much time and effort, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Then let’s just enjoy _this_ ,” luring him into another deep kiss, Iza delighted in the way her head swam, eventually breaking away to breathe and to let him continue planting kisses to her face and neck.

“All right,” he murmured, hooking a finger into the high neck of the under armor she wore to pull it down out of the way. “You win, sweetheart.”

Iza muttered some cheeky retort about how she _always_ won, and leaned back against the wall of the ship, tilting her head for him and opening her eyes so that she could at least _try_ to keep watch. A sharp chill ran down the back of her spine when she noticed a set of burning blue eyes staring at them from across the way, half hidden behind a wall of supply crates. _Obi-Wan_.

Instead of alerting Catcher, Iza fixed the elder Jedi with a hard look and turned her head to allow her lover to snatch another long, slow kiss. She didn’t give a single kriff if that man sat and watched; he could call every last High Council member back at the Temple and tattle on her for all she cared right now. Iza was _not_ going to stop what she was doing just because _he’d_ happened to stumble upon something he shouldn’t have seen.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe this was their way out.

Maybe this was their ticket to freedom from _everything_.

Reaching to grab Catcher’s hands and move them lower on her hips, she giggled into his mouth when he squeezed, and dared to shoot a look at Obi-Wan from the corner of her eye. He looked about ready to blow a damn gasket, but also like he knew he couldn’t do a thing about it. He also hadn’t moved from his spot since she’d noticed him.

**Good.**

He could sit there and watch the whole thing so he could tell it in excruciating detail when he decided to run back and tell everyone what they’d been doing. He could let it sink in to that sick mind of his that she loved another—truly loved him—and that there was no place in her heart for _Master Kenobi_.

And maybe then, she’d finally be free from _him_ , too.


	15. The Red

Maybe she should’ve stayed down in the crew quarters with the rest of the Clones.

Iza had felt Obi-Wan’s presence long before he’d come up behind her and she put a hand out to block him with a wave of Force energy, stopping him in his tracks.

“ _Don’t_ ,”

There was a kind of calmness in the older man’s features that she didn’t like. She was so tempted to reach across their Bond and see just what was going on inside of his head in that moment, but she wasn’t going to play his game. She wouldn’t open herself up to letting him sneak his way in and seeing more than he already had. It was one thing for him to witness what she and Catcher had done in the cargo bay; it was another entirely if he knew about the consequences of their affair growing in her belly.

“How long?” he asked after a long moment of just staring her down, his voice just as eerily calm as his face. “How long have you been defiling the Code with your actions, Iza?”

“ _Defiling_?” that thick heat from earlier in his bedchamber began to fill the narrow space of the corridor. “ ** _This_** coming from a man who thinks it _proper_ to _violate_ me in his dreams?”

“You know the rules, Jedi Tacor.” Oh, so they were back to that? Okay. “I’m going to have to report this to the High Council.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly sure what shifted in the air in that moment, but he swore he saw something flicker in Iza’s eyes that looked a lot like victory. He saw the way her stance suddenly changed as she pulled her shoulders up and tilted her chin so she could stare down at him as best as she could at her height; took note of the tiny twitch of her lips that suggested she was trying not to smile in celebration over… _something_. He had to tentatively reach out to see whether or not the Bond had been broken, only for her to push him back with such force that it made his head hurt.

“Stay out, Kenobi.” She warned, holding her hand up again as if threatening to physically knock him back the next time he tried to touch her mind. “You’re not welcome.”

Doing his best to just breathe and not let his frustrations get the better of him, Obi-Wan couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that this had all been done on purpose. That maybe Iza had _wanted_ to be caught. What a foolish girl. Did she not understand that she would be cast out? And that her Clone would not only be discharged, but quite possibly even _exterminated_ for what the Army would consider a **malfunction**? These Troopers were not made for the purpose of loving someone—but Iza knew that. Obi-Wan _knew_ she knew that.

“Credit for your thoughts, Kenobi?”

“Did you think you’d go under the radar forever?” Not the question he _wanted_ to ask, but it would have to do. “Did you think that nobody would find out? Or did you plan to abandon everything your Master taught you?”

“Why should I give up an opportunity for happiness? I deserve to have it as much as everyone else.” Iza’s voice was almost mocking, her green eyes looking him up and down before she snorted. “Force knows how many opportunities **_you’ve_** had. Pity you’re so deep in it that you can’t let go of your silly morals in your daily life and be selfish the way you are in your head, Kenobi.”

“Those are dangerous words, Iza,” now he looked worried.

“Have I struck a nerve? _I’m sorry_ ,” she didn’t sound sorry at all, especially when she pouted at him and followed in a sickly sweet tone, “You _must_ forgive me. It’s in your blood not to harbor ill feelings.”

That heat had been steadily rising the longer they stood here and Obi-Wan had taken note of a _very_ heavy pressure in his chest the more he provoked her. So—this was what Master Windu had been warning him against that day at the Temple. He’d fully expected to have the elder Jedi verbally tear him in half for putting the girl in the position that he had, and while Obi-Wan hadn’t exactly been spared the tongue lashing, he’d been advised to stay _far_ away from Iza while she was in training. He’d also been given orders to keep her off of assignment rosters for as long as possible, but never got an answer as to _why_. There’d been such a strange look in the other man’s eyes that day—like there were things he just wasn’t telling him—and now, he knew.

“Are you going to say something, or just stand there and stare at me?” Iza sounded impatient, so unlike the girl he’d first brought into his care months before. Had it really been his fault that her darkness had been yanked to the surface like this?

“Go,” he gave a weak wave of his hand, looking unwilling to continue this any further. “I don’t have time for this. We have to prepare for—”

The sudden pulse of hot energy knocked him onto his back and Obi-Wan sat up to see her standing with her hand outstretched, fingers spread and a hard look in her eye. He might’ve been through with the conversation—more for _her_ sake than his own—but clearly, Iza was not.

“Coward.” Dropping her arm at her side, Iza shook her head at him. The two stared at one another in that awful silence again before she snorted at him and whirled around to leave, the skirt of her tabard fluttering lightly behind her.

No. He was no coward; he was **smart**. Obi-Wan knew better than to continue challenging her when she was literal inches from tipping over the edge. Master Windu had done his best, he really had. But Obi-Wan feared that the man had not been able to do _enough_. He wasn’t even sure if anyone could pull her back now, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Alerting the Council _now_ would cause problems for him and everyone on board this ship, should she find out. Even though instinct told him that it was exactly what she wanted, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The Bond holding him to her was screaming at him to protect her, to do everything in his power to drag her back from that ledge so she wouldn’t be lost like so many others.

He couldn’t give up on her yet.

“Master,” Anakin’s voice nearly made his heart stop. He hadn’t even sensed his presence approaching.

Looking up, Obi-Wan found the younger Jedi staring down the hallway where Iza had left and was a bit startled by the hard expression on his face.

“Anakin,” getting to his feet, Obi-Wan rubbed at his lower back where he’d hit it and sighed, noting that the air had thinned back out again. “We should—”

“What _was_ that?” There was deep concern in the taller man’s voice, his eyes never straying from the hallway. “Why did I feel—”

“Leave it, Anakin.” It was Obi-Wan’s turn to sharpen his tone, tired of dealing with all of this. They had a job to do, and not a lot of time to do it. Iza would calm down with time—she always did—and as long as she could remain focused during the rest of the mission, then he would not touch this subject again until he _had_ to. But he would keep it in the back of his head, right next to the gut-turning image of her kissing that Clone he had burned into his brain. “We have work to do.”

~*~*~*~

“We’re all clear, General!” Rex confirmed as the transport ship was preparing to land.

“Good,” Anakin gave a firm nod and a solid pat to the center of Rex’s back. “Prepare your men.”

“Yes Sir!”

Looking across the way to where Iza stood thumbing the base of her lightsaber, Anakin had to fight the urge he had to go and talk to her. He’d been instructed to leave her alone after the strange encounter just hours before, but couldn’t understand _why_. He wanted answers; that sick feeling of darkness in his chest had come from _her_ and he didn’t like it. Master Obi-Wan had shot down every attempt he’d made at asking about what had happened between the two of them and completely ignored him when he’d asked if she was going to Fall. Ahsoka had brought it up to him recently that something had felt _off_ about the other Jedi and now he was starting to understand why.

Deciding that if Obi-Wan wasn’t going to give him the answers he wanted he was just going to go to the source, Anakin started to cross the floor of the transporter when he felt a hand grab him by the arm.

“What did I say?” the elder Jedi’s voice was a harsh whisper in his ear. “ _Leave it, Anakin_.”

“But _Master_ ,” practically grinding his teeth, Anakin shifted his gaze between Obi-Wan and Iza.

“Listen to me,” coming around to put himself in between his young comrade and the unsuspecting Jedi across the way, Obi-Wan shook his head and pointed to the crates of supplies that were being prepared for drop-off. “ _This_ is what you need to focus on, _not her_. We have work to do, Anakin. Do not let _her_ turmoil cloud _your_ judgement.”

Again, Anakin’s eyes flicked between his Master and Iza, narrowing lightly when he saw Catcher walking up beside her. Letting out a snort, he gestured towards the pair and raised an eyebrow down at Obi-Wan. “You know about them, don’t you? You’re the one Bonded to her, after all. I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now—”

“ _Focus_ , Anakin.” Obi-Wan wasn’t going to deal with this right now. There were more important matters at hand than gossip and Anakin’s seemingly incessant need to pull Iza’s skeletons out of her closet. “Go tell Captain Rex that we’re ready when he is.”

“You’re protecting her,” the accusation in Anakin’s voice was light, but damning nevertheless. “Why?”

“ ** _Anakin, I said_** **_GO_** _!_ ”

The entire ship went dead quiet after Obi-Wan’s outburst and all eyes turned to see exactly what it was that had made the typically mild-mannered Jedi blow his lid like that. Already, Obi-Wan had gathered himself, shooting the younger man a look before he walked off to prepare for landing like the rest of the crew. He wouldn’t look at anyone when he passed them, but he felt an itching in the back of his head that suggested Iza was attempting to reach out to him. Hesitating, he let her in, but only for a brief moment.

 _Thank you_.

Letting out a scoffing laugh, he shook his head at himself and nearly rolled his eyes. Yeah, she was kriffing welcome. He wouldn’t be doing that _again_.

~*~*~*~

So much for everything being _all clear_.

They’d barely started getting the crates unloaded when the battle droids ambushed them and now Iza was struggling to stay as close to Catcher as possible to keep him from catching a stray blaster bolt, while also trying to keep these people safe as well. It was no easy task, that was for sure.

The heavy hum of her lightsaber was loud in her ears as she charged forward and leapt up to swing out and decapitate the three blaster-carrying droids that had crept up on her right, and she had nanoseconds to react to the shots fired off by the second wave that followed after. Each time she thought she’d managed to clear them out, more would come, and she was starting to become exhausted.

For the third time now, she’d had to discreetly use the Force to pull Catcher out of harm’s way, trying desperately to keep up with him and with everything else going on. She _knew_ she was capable of this; she’d trained so hard for so long that this should’ve been going better than it was.

“ _Grenade!_ ”

The shout had been somewhere off to her right before a body plowed into her and knocked her hard into the dirt, her head bouncing off the ground before the blast took her hearing and left her with a vicious ringing in its place. The body on top of her was _heavy_ , and she felt a strange rumbling in her chest that suggested they were yelling. Hands grabbed her face and gave a light shake, trying to bring her back to her senses. But that ringing—that _incessant_ ringing. It clouded her mind and kept her dazed, even when she opened her eyes and saw Catcher with his bloodied face staring right back down at her. Where the hell was his helmet? He was saying something. She could see his lips moving. _Force_ , he weighed a lot.

Her chest hurt as she tried to take a deeper breath and tell him that she was okay— _was_ she okay?—and suddenly, the weight was gone. Horror filled her as she watched the bright red flash of a blaster bolt knock him clean off of her and onto his side where he lay, unmoving.

Iza stared for maybe a half-second before she felt the boiling hot flood of pure _rage_ surge through her. It was as though something had snapped inside of her head at the sight before her and before she could think about anything else, she dragged her aching body to its feet and turned towards where the bolt had come from. Every last ounce of her misery and _hate_ seemed to pool into one place in her chest as she faced the onslaught of droids heading in her direction and as her chest began to heave from the tears streaking down her face, she hollered so loud it made her throat hurt and charged forward.

Sparks flew as she swung the lightsaber with almost no care or thought as to where its blade was going to land; tossing it from hand to hand as she traded off which side she wanted to use in order to blast back the walking buckets of bolts. She could hear someone calling to her in the back of her head and ignored it as she continued on with her assault. It wasn’t until she was standing among the wreckage of Force knew how many of the droids that she stopped. Her heart was pounding and she felt sick, but that boiling sensation hadn’t ceased. Powering off the lightsaber, she turned to run back to Catcher, finding that Rex and his men were already tending to him.

“ _Move_ ,” her voice was muffled to her still-ringing ears, deep and dark and full of _something_ that made the Clones exchange a look before they backed off. Dropping to her knees beside her fallen lover, Iza held shaking hands over him and shut her eyes, putting every last ounce of her pain into focus before pushing it forward, willing it to mend the damage and bring him back to consciousness. She wasn’t going to lose him; she _refused_. She’d sooner die. If he didn’t wake up—didn’t give her that cheeky smile of his and tell her how stubborn she was— _she would go with him_.

The harsh gasp of breath and the rough coughing that followed was all she needed for the heat in her blood to start draining away into a kind of still numbness that made her sick. She was suddenly all-too aware of the smell of burning circuits and the taste of blood and dirt in her mouth. The back of her head was killing her, but it was her body that hurt the most.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care about any of it. Her wounds were superficial as far as she was concerned. Catcher was what mattered to her, and he was going to _live_. Feeling _very_ tired, she started to slump forward onto him, only to have a set of hands grasp her shoulders.

“General Tacor!” Rex was in her face, shaking her. “ _General!_ ”

“I’m… I’m not—”

“General,” he didn’t have time for her stubbornness about titles. “Where are you injured?”

_What?_

“Don’t… worry about me.” Shaking her head, she gestured to Catcher instead. “Get him… inside. That’s… that’s an order.”

“ _Sir_ ,” those brown eyes that nearly matched Catcher’s were sharp and full of concern. “ _Where are you injured?_ ”

She didn’t understand. Aside from what felt like some cracked ribs and maybe some scrapes here and there, Iza didn’t think she _had_ any injuries. “What… are you _talking_ about?”

“Iza,” Obi-Wan’s voice sounded horrified as he came up with Anakin—who looked equally troubled—at his side. “Your robes,”

Even more confused than before, her weary eyes were cast downward to see what everyone was staring at and felt a wave of nausea wash over her when she saw the bright crimson blooming into the material of her tabard.

“ _Oh no_ …” dragging her fingers across the mess like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, she looked like she might pass out. Her next words were like needles stabbing down the spines of everyone in attendance to her misery.

“ _The baby_ ,”

~*~*~*~

“What are you going to do?” Anakin asked solemnly as he stared at Obi-Wan’s back. For over an hour now, his Master had been sitting in silence and the young Jedi just couldn’t stand it anymore. He understood that the man had a heavy burden resting on his shoulders—they all did; Obi-Wan, Anakin, _Captain Rex_ —but this was still something that wouldn’t stay hidden for long. The minute they returned to the Temple _someone_ would surely feel the shift in Iza and she’d be dragged away to be cast out—or put to Trial or whatever it was they did when someone Fell.

“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet and dry, eyes pointed out the window of the ship as he sat with the tips of his fingers steepled and pressed to his lips. He’d been trying to figure that out since Iza and Catcher had been admitted to the medical bay. No—he’d been trying to figure that out since he’d felt her take that last step towards a place he couldn’t follow. He’d been far too late and she’d slipped through his fingers; her pain was just too much for her to take. Rubbing a hand over his tired face, the brunet shook his head. “I don’t kriffing know, Anakin.”

The use of that word made Anakin flinch. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard his Master swear before—honestly, he didn’t know he was capable of it with the way he behaved at times.

“She’ll be cast out.”

“I’m aware.”

“She’ll become our enemy.”

“ _Anakin_ ,” shutting his eyes again, Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a very harsh breath. “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t been thinking about for the last hour. Please, just…”

“We have to let them go.” Anakin cut him off before Obi-Wan could tell him to be quiet, watching his Master turn to look at him in surprise. “We can’t make her face the Council, and I know Rex has already made his decision.”

“Why the sudden change of heart, Anakin?” Obi-Wan had a feeling he knew, but _still_. He couldn’t quite grasp what it was that made the younger Jedi suddenly sympathetic towards the situation. “Just hours ago, you were trying to scold me for protecting her.”

Turning his gaze towards the stars outside the window, Anakin worked his jaw and shook his head slowly. “You told me not to let her turmoil influence my judgement, but I can’t help it. That wasn’t fair, Master. What happened out there wasn’t fair to her or to Catcher.”

“War isn’t fair, Anakin. I would’ve thought you’d learned that by now.”

“Are you so stuck in your ways that you can’t have _any_ sympathy, Master?”

“Don’t you _dare_ question my feelings on the situation, Anakin!” Boy, the anger orb was being passed around quite quick today, wasn’t it? Pushing it back as quickly as he could, the elder of the two gave an almost indignant snort and raked his fingers through his hair, mussing it in the process. “You have no idea the things I feel.”

“She is not the only one who shares a Bond with you, Master,” Anakin said lowly, smirking as if this should’ve been the most obvious thing in the universe. “You may be good at hiding things, but I can tell when you’re troubled.”

“Then look harder, if you must.” He wouldn’t look at his apprentice, instead choosing to stare out the window once more. As silence stretched between them again, he sat and stewed in his thoughts, vaguely aware of the poking and prodding that Anakin was doing until the other Jedi gave a light grunt.

“You can’t help her anymore, Master,” Anakin said, leaning up against the glass. “You need to let her go.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan could see Coruscant coming into view just ahead and his chest was beginning to ache. “Go tell Captain Rex that I’d like to see him. And do hurry, Anakin. We don’t have a lot of time.”


	16. All That I'm Living For

Iza had not listened to the medic droid who had instructed her to stay on her own bed, and she had not wanted to hear anything about what it had to say about her condition, either. Her mind and body felt so hollow and hurt that she just wanted to curl up with Catcher and sleep for as long as they’d be allowed to, before they reached Coruscant and everything went to hell for the second time that day. As she lay with her head cushioned on his chest and his fingers threaded in her hair, idly rubbing at the sore spot where her head had hit the ground, she wondered what they were going to do. Nobody had been to see them. She could feel that there was a Trooper stationed just outside the door, but it seemed more like it was to keep them _in_ rather than keep anyone _out_.

“What are we going to do?” Catcher asked, breaking the silence that had been quite peaceful up until then. His voice was still a little rough, and Iza didn’t like that he sounded winded even though he hadn’t done more than shift around so they could share the bed. Maybe she needed to get up and get more of those bacta patches; he’d do much better in a tank, but the ship was lacking and she doubted they’d be allowed use of _anything_ once they touched down. Closing her eyes as he stroked a finger down her cheek and under her chin, Iza whined quietly when she was made to tilt her head up and open them again.

“I will do whatever I must to keep you.” Her tone was tired and weak. She’d used up all of the energy she had demolishing those battle droids and in bringing him back from the brink. No amount of bacta was going to fix _that_. “I will fight if they try to make me give you up.”

“Little Bit,” his eyes were so warm and soft that she wished she could get lost in them forever. They seemed like such a pleasant place to spend eternity. “Sweetheart, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

Reaching to grasp the front of the tunic they’d stuck him in, she used it to pull herself up higher in his arms and tried not to grunt when her body protested the move. Both hands came up to cup his face, but she only rested her forehead to his and lightly nuzzled at his nose.

“There is nothing in this universe that would stop me from fighting for you. Not this war, not the Army, and certainly not the Order.” _The Order_. Just the idea of going back to the Temple was making her sick to her stomach. Iza had no plans to set foot back on that compound ever again—not willingly. She was _done_ with this, _done_ being a Jedi Knight, _done_ following a Code she could no longer believe in. They’d have to drag her back kicking and screaming if they wanted her to go back into that place of _lies_.

“I admire your valor, Little Bit,” chuckling softly, the Clone pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “But I’m afraid this might be something we cannot fight back against.”

“We could leave right now,” running her fingers down the side of his neck, Iza shut her eyes again and leaned into him a little more, fighting to stay conscious. “We could rush the door… they wouldn’t _dare_ …”

“Iza,” Catcher’s strong hand caught her chin and lifted it, his eyes wide and worried. “ _Iza?_ ”

“She’s exhausted herself.” Obi-Wan’s voice startled the Clone, causing him to instinctively pull Iza closer to his chest. But the blue-eyed Jedi didn’t seem interested in snatching her away. He was keeping his distance as he observed the two with his hands tucked neatly behind his back. “Calling upon the Dark Side will do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Catcher’s eyes stayed trained on the other man, shifting only when he caught the hint of movement towards the door. General Skywalker had come to join his comrade, the expression on his face unreadable.

“Iza is no longer part of the Light, Catcher.”

This confused him; all of the nonsense about _darkness_ and _light_ had always gone right over his head. He understood what the Jedi stood for because it had been programmed into him, but he couldn’t understand how Iza— _his Iza_ —could be anything _but_ full of Light.

“Don’t…” Iza shifted in his arms, attempting to turn over to look at the two in the room. “Don’t you _speak_ to him. He doesn’t… need more of your _lies_ in his head.”

“We are not here to cause conflict,” Obi-Wan wouldn’t look at her; his eyes stared straight over her shoulder at the pillows keeping the two propped upright. “We only want to help.”

Letting out a loud bark of laughter, Iza gripped one of Catcher’s legs and used it to pull herself up straighter, making an attempt to slip off of the bed. She grunted and stopped when a strong arm went around her waist, noting that Catcher seemed as though he was trying his best to keep from further upsetting her belly. _They hadn’t told him yet, had they?_ A soft sound like a growl left her throat at being restrained, but she didn’t fight him. Instead, she looked back at the two intruders and narrowed her eyes.

“You… want…” _stars_ , she was so tired. Shaking off the sensation that she might pass out, Iza scowled, “Why would you?”

“Would you rather be cast out by the Council? Be shamed in front of your Master?”

“ _Anakin_ ,”

“Do you know what they’ll do to _him?_ ” Pointing a finger at Catcher, Anakin didn’t seem to be slowing down any time soon. “He’ll be dispatched. _Permanently_. There is no use for a Clone who can’t follow orders, Iza. He’ll be dead before the sun sets.”

“Over… _my dead… **body**_.” The temperature in the room was starting to rise as Iza stared the younger Jedi down. Even in her weakened state, it was clear she wasn’t about to stop using the Force to keep them away. “I’ll… kill… _anyone_ who… who touches…”

“Stop, _Little Bit_ ,” Catcher’s arms slipped around her and pulled her back against his chest, his lips pressing to the side of her head as he glared at the two men in the room. Only Obi-Wan seemed to be frustrated by his former apprentice’s lack of _tact_ in the situation as he glared at him disapprovingly. “Are you _trying_ to make her worse, General Skywalker?”

“That—” Anakin turned to Obi-Wan as he pointed at the two on the bed. “ _That_ is why I insisted. He doesn’t _care_ about the change, Master Obi-Wan. A Fall does not take away one’s ability to _love_. Let them live in _peace_.”

“I had no intention of doing otherwise, Anakin,” searching the younger man’s face for _some_ indication as to what the hell he thought he’d been doing to provoke Iza’s rage like that, he set his jaw and shook his head in disappointment. “Must you always stir the pot?”

“ _You_ are the one who still had reservations. I was just proving—”

“Will you _shut up?_ ” Iza snapped, looking as tired as ever when both men turned to look back at her. Shifting her eyes between them, she settled on Obi-Wan and lifted her chin. “ _Why?_ ”

The elder Jedi cautiously locked his gaze with hers, acutely aware of the way the room seemed to melt away and disappear into nothing more than a black void where only the two of them existed. Gesturing around, he dropped his hands at his sides.

“This,” his voice was quiet. “This is why.”

Iza shook her head. She didn’t understand. What the hell did a big black empty space have to do with _anything_?

“The Bond, Iza. _Our_ Bond.”

She seemed to flinch and somewhere in the darkness, she felt a hand brush over her face; Catcher’s hand. But he wasn’t here with them. Not anywhere she could see, anyway.

“It’s still intact.” He sounded just as surprised as she felt.

“You… said…”

“I know what I said, and I know what I said to be true.”

“ _Break it_.” She looked like she wanted to tear her gaze away but didn’t have the strength to.

“I can’t,” the smile he offered was faint and apologetic, almost as though he was silently confessing to having tried already. “ _You_ won’t let go.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Shaking his head, Obi-Wan turned his hand up in an almost careless gesture. “You’re holding onto me, my darling girl. I will not force you out if you do not want to go. I will always be here. I will carry your Light and keep it safe for you.”

She looked away then, the blackness of the void bleeding back into the medical bay where she found Catcher almost desperately trying to get her attention. His hands were on her face, damp with tears she realized were her own. When her sight came back into true focus, she let out a soft whimper and slipped her arms around his neck and held on tight.

“What did you do?” the Clone growled accusingly, holding her to his chest protectively. “ _Obi-Wan_ , what have you done to her?”

A little surprised by Catcher’s use of his first name and not the usual _General Kenobi_ , the elder Jedi simply smiled and shook his head. “I haven’t harmed her, I promise.”

“Iza?” Trying his best to get her to look at him, Catcher snapped to attention when he heard the door open again and felt a stab of terror in his gut when Captain Rex came waltzing in. But his superior didn’t seem interested in taking more than a glance at him before he was turning to both Anakin and Obi-Wan.

“Sir, everything is in order.” He spoke in a low, professional tone, standing straight and tall like the _good_ Trooper he was. Like the Trooper Catcher was supposed to be.

“Thank you, Rex.” Nodding, Obi-Wan gave Anakin a look and gestured for both men to leave the room. Waiting for the door to slide shut behind them he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “There’s a ship for the two of you waiting in the hangar. You’ll have enough rations and fuel to reach anywhere in the Inner Rim you desire to go, but I’d suggest picking somewhere… _neutral_ for a while. I hear good things about Cerea.”

“We can’t bring the ship there,” Catcher didn’t mean to sound like he was arguing. “They have—”

“We… won’t need it.” Iza had finally lifted her head again and was looking at Obi-Wan with something like amazement in her eyes. “He suggested it… for a reason. We’ll just… look… like refugees.”

Obi-Wan only smiled. “You should try to be as quick as possible. I hate to rush you in the state you’re currently in, but you do understand we’ve got to be getting back to Coruscant _soon_.”

Catcher looked _extremely_ hesitant as he glanced down at Iza to find her just as exhausted as ever. Pressing his lips together tightly, he fixed Obi-Wan with another look. “Is there another way?”

“ _Catcher—_ ”

“I’m afraid this is the only option we can give you where you both can leave without issue.” He did seem apologetic, for once. “If I thought there was another way, I would offer it.”

“But she can hardly move!”

“What would you have me do, Catcher?” Tilting his head like he was open for suggestions, Obi-Wan turned his hands up. “Either you two can take the ship and go, or you come back to Coruscant and she faces the consequences of her Fall.”

There he went, using terms Catcher didn’t quite understand again. All of this mumbojumbo about _Falling_ and _Dark Side_ —how was it that they could stand there and say these things when Iza had not changed a single bit? She was still _Iza_ ; at her very core, she was still the _same_ woman she’d always been. Why couldn’t they see that?

“Are you really going to hand her over as soon as we land? Would you really do that to her?”

The expression on Obi-Wan’s face became grim and Catcher knew he’d asked the wrong question. “I’m afraid I would not have any other choice.”

“Peacekeepers my _choobies_.”

“ _Catcher_ ,” sitting up with a great amount of effort, Iza once again used his legs for leverage, cringing horribly as she did. “ _Be quiet_.”

“What are you doing?” He suddenly seemed more preoccupied with keeping her from hurting herself than he was with getting angry at Obi-Wan. “ _Iza_ —”

“Listen to me…” taking a few slow breaths, the brunette twisted to look at him and took his face in her hands again. “We will _never_ have… this chance again. We must _go_.”

“Look at you!” He laid restraining hands on her waist to try and keep her from slipping off of the bed, gripping the material of the medical robes to hold her in place. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened while we were trying to flee!”

“ _And **I** won’t be able to live at all if they put a blaster bolt in your brain_!” Fisting her hand in the leg of his trousers, Iza’s shoulders heaved. Shaking her head, she seemed to refuse to look at him as she continued to pull away, tentatively touching her toes to the floor. “Don’t… argue. _Please_. We’ve suffered… enough.”

A growl sounded behind her and she felt movement on the bed before strong arms were lifting her off of her feet, making her gasp sharply and reach out to grab at his shoulders. Catcher was muttering something about how damn stubborn she was, but he also appeared to be ready to carry her out, pausing to look over at Obi-Wan.

“I want a medic droid.” He demanded, making Iza tug at his tunic in protest.

“ _Catcher,_ ”

“You may take one with you.” Obi-Wan wasn’t going to object. Iza seemed to be in such poor condition that even he was having a hard time letting her go like that. But he saw no alternative here; they needed to take that ship and get out of here before someone from Coruscant decided they were coming up _here_ to investigate why it was taking so long for them to land.

Seemingly satisfied, the Clone started to wander out when Iza stopped him.

“Wait,” looking around, she raised a hand and seemed to be focusing a little too hard for something as simple as willing her lightsaber into her hand from across the room. Looking down at it, she turned it over in her hand before holding it out to Obi-Wan. “Give it to Master Windu. I can’t take this… when I don’t believe in… what it stands for anymore.”

The elder Jedi stared back at her, stunned. He wasn’t quite sure what to say or do in that moment. Truthfully, he wanted to tell her to keep it; it didn’t matter that they would be heading for a neutral world. Force knew that the war would still find them _somehow_. He didn’t like the idea that she’d be without something to defend herself. And the words she’d used—saying she didn’t believe in what the lightsaber stood for anymore—had him searching tentatively for that link between them and nearly breathing a sigh of relief to find it still intact.

“Take it,” she urged, leaning her head against Catcher’s shoulder. “Tell him I’m… sorry I failed him.”

He couldn’t find anything to say, just took the lightsaber with a slow nod and stepped aside to let them pass. Looking to a medic droid that had been minding its own business in the corner, he pointed after them. “You. Go with them.”

“Yes sir.” Giving a nod, the droid followed the two out the door and Obi-Wan found himself alone, gripping the hilt of Iza’s lightsaber tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

A million things were running through his mind at once, but he kept coming back to the same thing over and over. Even as he heard the chatter overhead announcing that the ship was preparing to leave.

Was he doing the right thing?

~*~*~*~

“ _Where is she?_ ”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Mace Windu look angry before, but he’d known the second that they’d stepped off of the ship that the man was good and _pissed off_. The funny thing was, he kept cycling back and forth between anger and genuine concern so frequently that it seemed to balance out and make his presence feel a little less intimidating than the look on his face did.

Unsure of what to say at first, Obi-Wan quietly dismissed Anakin and waited until he and Master Windu were the only two on the platform before he unclipped Iza’s lightsaber from the back of his belt.

“She wanted me to give this to you.” Holding the weapon out in front of him, the younger Jedi wasn’t sure he could meet his gaze. “She said to tell you that she’s sorry for failing you.”

Mace’s dark eyes looked down at the lightsaber and he took it gingerly in his hand, turning it over slowly before staring back up at Obi-Wan. “That is not what I asked you, Kenobi.”

“I’m not sure where she went.” He hoped the other man wouldn’t sense that he was lying. “She just handed this to me and… _left_.”

“What happened? Which one of you disobeyed me and brought her out of the Temple?”

“I did,” he wasn’t going to let Anakin be punished for this. “And, I’m also not sure what happened.”

“Cut the crap, Kenobi.” There was a certain bite to Master Windu’s tone that probably would have made him flinch when he was younger, but Obi-Wan held his ground. “How did it happen?”

“Sir,” what was he going to do? He didn’t know if he could spin a story fast enough without betraying Iza.

“Was it the Clone?” Mace looked extremely displeased now, even as he sighed and shook his head. “This is why I didn’t want her on the battlefield with him. That girl was too tenderhearted for this kind of thing.”

“Sir?”

“What? Did you think I was blind to my own apprentice’s desires? She’s been following that Clone around since the day he arrived from Kamino.” Looking down at Iza’s lightsaber again, Mace ground his teeth a little and exhaled harshly through his nose. “I was foolish to think I could keep her from this fate with training alone.”

Now Obi-Wan was even more confused than ever. Had Master Windu _known_ Iza was destined to Fall? Was that why he’d given her those extra lessons to try and harness her emotions for her benefit?

“I wish she’d come to me.” Mace seemed to be talking to the lightsaber more than to Obi-Wan. “I could’ve saved her.”

“With all due respect, sir,” he couldn’t stay quiet, could he? “I don’t think any of us could have saved her. But I also don’t believe she’s a lost cause.”

“And just what do _you_ think you know, Kenobi?” The look he gave the younger man was one of annoyance, but it lacked any true feeling behind it. “You haven’t spent nearly as much time with her as I have. I don’t care what sort of _Bond_ you’ve made with her. It isn’t the same as Master and Apprentice and you know it.”

Obi-Wan hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “If she were truly gone, she would have done anything in her power to get away. I would not be standing before you, handing you that lightsaber. She would not have apologized for shaming you. I believe there could be a chance for redemption.”

“That’s impossible and you know it, Kenobi.”

“Perhaps,” nodding slowly, Obi-Wan then shrugged. “Perhaps not. But how would you rest easy knowing that you’d squandered away a chance to find out?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Let her go, at least for a little while. We cannot focus on her and the war at the same time.” No, it would be a rather foolish thing for them to drop everything to try and work on pulling Iza back into the Light when there were more important things to tend to. “She will reach for one of us when the time is right. I can just… sense it.”

Mace didn’t say anything for a long time, staring out at the city in complete, stoic silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he turned and held Iza’s lightsaber out to Obi-Wan. The younger man almost flinched at the offering, looking from the weapon, back up to the elder Jedi.

“Take it,” _Force_ , Mace reminded him of Iza in that moment; it was quite startling to see how much Master and Apprentice took after each other. “You will return it to her when the time is right.”

“Sir?”

“I cannot do more than I already have. I have taught her everything I can. Iza Tacor is your responsibility now.” Nodding to the lightsaber, Mace waited for Obi-Wan to take it, lowering his arm when he finally did. Without another word, the elder Jedi turned on his heel and headed inside the Temple, leaving Obi-Wan alone on the platform.

As he turned the lightsaber over in his hand before clipping it to his belt, Obi-Wan couldn’t help wondering why _he_ had to be the one everyone passed their orphaned Apprentices off to.

~*~*~*~

“Hey,”

Catcher’s voice was soft in her ear and Iza stirred from her spot on the cot, picking her head up and looking around, confused.

“Where are we?” She was feeling a little better after getting some sleep, but her body still ached and her throat was dry. She couldn’t wait to get to Cerea where they could go to a proper medical facility.

“About an hour or two out,” smiling faintly, the Clone reached out and ran the back of his hand down the side of her face. “We’ll be docking at the shipyard in no time.”

“Good.”

“Can I get you anything?”

Shaking her head, the brunette moved to crawl out of the cot and stumbled with a soft gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and leaning into his chest when he caught her.

“Take it easy,” a big palm ran up and down her back as warm lips brushed her forehead. “You’re really in no condition to be out of bed, you know.”

Slipping her arms over his shoulders, Iza grumbled quietly and nudged at him to make him sit on the floor, crawling into his lap once he’d gotten comfortable. For a while, she just sat there with her fingers in his hair, basking in the soft smell of caf on his skin and the comforting heat of his chest. It was when he’d started running a hand along her side and rubbed it over her belly that she felt a cold shiver run up her spine and it was all she could do not to bat his hand off.

“It’s gone,” her voice was muffled against his neck, but she was sure he heard her; the passes of his hand had stopped. “I’m sorry, Catcher.”

Somewhere in his heart, he’d already known. Maybe it was when he’d woken up to see Iza’s bloodied tabard in a heap on the floor of the medical bay, or when he’d heard the droids chattering about antibiotics and some other nonsense that wouldn’t come along with a typical battle wound. Perhaps he’d known it might happen just seconds before he’d thrown himself on her to protect her from the grenade blast. He’d barely had enough time to react, let alone try to find a way to land without hurting both her and the baby. He’d cracked her ribs in the process too, which made him feel even worse. But the worst thing of all was knowing she’d seen him get hit with the bolt. It was knowing that it’d sparked something inside of her that was _dangerous_ to bring to the surface, according to the Jedi. Never mind that he couldn’t see or feel a difference in her; she was now damaged goods as far as those people were concerned.

“Shhh,” kissing the side of her head, Catcher held her closer and twisted a few tendrils of her hair around his fingers. “You don’t need to apologize, sweetheart.”

They could try again, when they were ready. They were free to do whatever they wanted now, after all. That was a strange thing to think about. _Freedom_. Something that was only saved for civilians and people living in neutral worlds. It was in their hands now to do with as they pleased.

“Catcher?” Iza’s voice broke him out of his thoughts as she leaned back to look at him.

Smiling, he dipped his head to steal a kiss; it felt nice to do this without worrying anyone was going to sneak up and spot them. “Yes, Little Bit?”

“Are we still going to get married?”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it.

“Of course,”

“Will you take my name?”

That was a funny question, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like he could do anything else. He had no last name to speak of to give to her and he doubted she’d want to be _Mrs. CT-8687_.

“I think so.” Pretending to think about it, he gave her one of his sly grins and raised an eyebrow. “Catcher Tacor has a nice little ring to it, don’t you think?”

Iza smiled wide and cupped his face in her hands, bringing him in for another kiss. “I think it’s perfect.”

“Me too,” resting his head against hers with a content sigh, Catcher continued to play with the ends of Iza’s hair and occasionally plant tiny kisses to her face. Finally, after he figured he’d left the ship on autopilot for long enough, he gave her a tiny nudge. “You need to get up, Little Bit. The bird can fly itself, but it won’t land itself.”

“Okay,” nodding, she scooted out of the way and let him stand, taking a deep breath and taking his hands so he could help her stand. Still very wobbly and lightheaded, she followed his lead to the cockpit and settled into the seat beside him to watch Cerea come into view. Leaning over in the chair, Iza rested her head on Catcher’s shoulder and slipped her fingers in between his, bringing his knuckles to her lips to kiss them.

This was it.

They were finally free.

There would be nobody here to tell them they couldn’t feel a certain way or do things how they wanted to do them. They would follow the laws of the land, of course; Iza wasn’t so far gone that she didn’t have any respect left in her soul. But this was their chance for the life they deserved, and nobody was going to take it from them.

Not if she had anything to say about it.

END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really just wanna thank all of those who have commented and left kudos. you people are absolute rockstars!
> 
> I also wanna say that this is _not_ the end of the Iza Tacor saga~ I will be starting a sequel as soon as I can, but I think I might need to give my brain a little time to rest and get some of its creative juices back before I do.
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading and leaving feedback. It really makes my day<3
> 
> \- Cali

**Author's Note:**

> I do apologize for any inaccuracies or anything within this story and its chapters to come. I'm doing my best with research and things, but I'm still quite new to the SW/SW:CW fandom and I'm getting most of my knowledge from what I've learned by proxy over the years.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated<3
> 
> also, i'ma drop it in here just in case anyone needs it: pronunciation for Iza's name is "ee-za tay-kor".


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